God Save the Queen
by dracosgem
Summary: Draco Malfoy is on the run from several uncaptured Death Eaters for betraying the Dark Lord in the midst of battle. He has appealed to the Order for protection and Harry Potter has agreed to hide Draco from the looming threat...IN DRAG... DM HG
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N- Okay, so don't ask me how I came up with this…I believe I was watching the Bird Cage and the idea of Draco Malfoy in drag just popped into my head…please don't ask where my insane fantasies lead me ; ) **_

_**I just thought that watching our sarcastic (but extraordinarily sexy) arse of a Slytherin attempting to woo our dear Hermione in a dress would be utterly hilarious!**_

_**Anyway, enjoy!! This has been so much fun to write!**_

* * *

God Save the Queen

By: dracosgem

Chapter One: The Pink Thestral

Harry Potter sat idly in his chair and stared at the arrogant blonde sitting before him. Draco Malfoy couldn't miss the obvious satisfaction in Harry's eyes seeing as he was practically at his mercy. Harry grinned slyly as his best mate, Ronald Weasley, entered the interrogation room. The redheaded prat sat down next to Harry, and returned his sly smile with a smug grin. The two of them obviously had similar sentiments regarding the situation at hand.

Draco sat across from them, puffing nonchalantly on a cigarette, unphased by his two former enemies. Although the three of them had essentially let go of their former detestation, Harry seemed rather ecstatic about his current predicament and the git openly showed his amusement without compunction. Ron seemed to be on a similar playing field, his smugness was thicker than usual, which was truly saying something.

"Would you two stop goading me with those smug looks of yours and tell me what the hell we're going to do about this?" Draco stated in a bored tone, throwing in a half-hearted eye roll for affect.

_Pricks._

"Well, Malfoy, after considering the situation, my colleague and I," Harry said gesturing to Ron, "we, have decided that you should be placed in witness protection."

"Excellent, being sent to some horrid place Merlin knows where to hide from a bunch of crazed Death Eaters," he replied sarcastically, "utterly fantastic."

"Now Malfoy, you did come to us seeking protection. What did you expect?" Harry retorted gleefully.

Draco sneered at him in response. "I expected you to keep me safe from Death Eaters! No hiding place in the middle of Siberia is going to keep them from finding me, have you forgotten Igor Karkarov? They want blood after I betrayed them!!" he replied irritably.

"Well, we _are_ offering protection. I mean, what did you want from us, exactly?" Ron asked.

"Perhaps a room at Grimmauld Place surrounded by the _brilliant_ Order," Draco quipped facetiously.

_Am I the only one with a bloody brain?_

Harry snorted merrily and shot a look at Ron who was grinning malevolently.

"Hate to break it to you Malfoy, but the Order is no longer using Grimmauld Place as its headquarters. Now that we've won the war and Shacklebolt has taken over for Scrimgeour, the Ministry and the Order have merged," Ron stated knowledgably, "of course, if you'd like to live at Grimmauld with Harry and my sister, I'm sure all you have to do is ask."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "And walk in on them shagging like rabid hippogriffs, I don't think so," he replied petulantly.

Harry flushed and laughed uncomfortably. Ron's face glowed bright red and he glared at Draco contemptuously. Draco leaned back in his chair and smirked at him victoriously.

_That'll teach you to mess with a Malfoy, ruddy wanker._

"Actually, Draco, we do have a spot in mind for you," Harry stated casually, "it's the perfect place and no Death Eaters would ever think to look for you there."

Ron began sniggering furiously. "No Death Eater would be caught dead in there," he muttered furtively.

Draco frowned and looked from Harry to Ron apprehensively. "Where is this place?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

_What the hell are these twits up to?_

"It's a darling little establishment on the outskirts of London's West End," Harry replied, attempting to hide the elation in his voice.

"Where?" Draco growled angrily.

"Trust us, you'll be absolutely safe," Ron replied with a chuckle.

"Potter, Weasley, if you don't cut the crap and tell me where you're hiding me I'm going to-"

"Relax, Malfoy," Harry interrupted, "it's really not that bad."

"Where is it?!" he shouted furiously.

Both Harry and Ron covered their mouths with their hands and attempted to stifle their laughter. Draco was quickly loosing his patience with them and he gripped the table in front of him in frustration. Harry seemed to notice his obvious aggravation and quickly composed himself.

"The Pink Thestral," he managed with a completely straight face.

"WHAT?!"

* * *

I'm not even going to ask how you have connections here," Draco said tetchily as he and Harry made their way towards the repulsively purple building with a large pink sign in the shape of a thestral. The two men walked stealthily across the street, Harry in his perfectly appointed Auror robes and Draco squatting low under his former rival's invisibility cloak.

"Actually, you know someone who works here too," Harry replied discreetly, albeit with a cheeky grin, "a pretty, magically gifted Muggleborn with a good heart…ring any bells?"

"Who?"

"Come on Malfoy!! The brightest witch of our age…"

"_Granger_?"he stated incredulously, "she works _here_?"

"Yep, working her way through Wizarding University," Harry whispered proudly.

"Does she know that I'll be in hiding?" Draco asked curiously. It had been some time since he had seen Hermione Granger and he was suddenly very uneasy. She had always been the one witch who had affected him above all others, driving him mad in envy, irritation and, though he'd never willingly admit it out loud, lust.

"No, actually," Harry replied quickly, "and she's off today so that will ensure that she doesn't find out about this little arrangement. I'd also ask that you try your best not to reveal yourself."

_Utterly fantastic…now I'm stuck in a gay night club called The Pink Thestral, surrounded by a bunch of prissy queens, and on top of it all, I have to be nice to the most infuriating witch this side of the wizarding world. Merlin's. Fucking. Pants._

"Um, alright_…_explain to me exactly what it is that I will be doing here?" Draco asked warily.

Harry grinned smugly and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm leaving that up to Ms. Scarlet," he replied mysteriously.

"Who the hell is Ms. Scarlet?" Draco asked crossly.

"Ms. Scarlet Wood, formerly known as _Oliver_," Harry said with a snort.

Draco stopped mid-stride and stared at Harry in complete shock. Harry, who was oblivious to Draco's immobility, kept walking towards the entrance to the outlandish club.

"Wait a tick," Draco said from a few feet behind Harry. Harry stopped and turned around.

"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing back there?" he asked peering at where he thought Draco might be standing.

"Did you just say Wood? As in _Oliver_ _Wood_?" Draco asked in astonishment.

Harry's concerned expression quickly turned to one of complete amusement.

"Yep, apparently ol' Wood was holding out on us in school. It seems that he had quite the thing for his fellow man," Harry replied with a chuckle, "I'm just glad I never caught him looking at me in the Quidditch Changing Rooms."

Draco started laughing hysterically at the thought of Oliver Wood attempting to spy on Harry back in school. The idea was utterly preposterous. Wood had always been quite the jock and the fact that Draco was about to see him in a decidedly different fashion was strange, to say the least.

"Malfoy, shut up and move it, I don't have all day," Harry urged and began walking into the club. He discreetly held open the door for Draco and he slipped in quickly, removing the cloak from his head. The sight that greeted him was utterly bizarre.

The club was extremely large with black marble floors that sloped to an enormous seating area around a gargantuan stage. A large crystal chandelier hung over the main seating area and perfectly appointed purple tables dotted the room and were flanked with lime green leather chairs. The stage itself was bright pink and the curtains were deep purple velvet. A bar ran along the back of the room and palm trees adorned with twinkle lights dotted the walls strategically. There were several small seating areas at the far corners of the room for more intimate gatherings.

Draco stood transfixed, looking around in astonishment. He had never been to a gay club in all his life and standing in the middle of one was slightly unnerving. He glanced around at several men who were seated at the bar. They were eyeing him and Harry in a rather licentious manner and Draco immediately felt uncomfortable.

_Great, just what I need, a bunch of flower picking, wrist flicking, paisley wearing nob jockies..._

"Hello boys," a deep, yet slightly feminine, Scottish brogue rumbled from behind them and Draco spun around rather defensively. Harry, who had noticed the slightly apprehensive look on Draco's face, clapped a hand on his back reassuringly. Draco flinched and then sighed in relief as he realized it was just Harry.

"Relax mate, no one is going to bother you," Harry whispered and stepped forward to greet the rather large "woman" that stood before them.

Draco stared disbelievingly at their hostess. She was obviously a man dressed as a woman and she wore a denim skirt and an outlandish purple top with a massive collar. She had long brown hair and brown eyes. Her makeup was expertly applied and she smiled at Harry and Draco sweetly. At first, the woman seemed completely unrecognizable but as he took in the broad shoulders and chiseled jaw, he noticed a familiarity that had initially been overlooked. He took in her appearance and slowly began to realize that this person was most definitely someone he once knew. As he surveyed the intelligent brown eyes and warm smile, a light went on inside him. It was Oliver Wood.

"Scarlet, how are you?" Harry stated as he greeted the large woman.

"I'm fabulous, Harry, how wonderful to see you!" she replied and Harry took the hand that she had offered. Scarlet looked over at Draco and smiled goofily.

"Well, well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy. My, you certainly have grown up," Scarlet said slyly.

"_Wood_?" was all that Draco could muster. This situation was utterly bizarre and he was feeling a little uneasy.

"Ah, I see he still has a wonderful eye. He'd have to in order to see that tiny ball," Wood replied playfully.

Draco glanced down and then back up at Wood, an irritated look on his face. She laughed whole heartedly at his annoyed expression and shook her head.

"No, no, darling. I meant the snitch," she stated with a frightening giggle.

Draco nodded his head in understanding and stood silently with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Harry began chatting with Wood and Draco continued to peer at her in total awe. It was certainly unnerving to see a former Quidditch jock, and a rather talented one at that, standing there in a skirt. She seemed to be the same polite and kind-hearted person he remembered from school and he fought the urge to smirk at her obvious desire to aid those in need.

_Bloody Gryffindor._

After some general pleasantries, she directed them to her office on the top floor of the club. Draco followed the two of them in and looked around appraisingly. Wood obviously still had a major jones for Quidditch as the entire room was decorated in the colors for Puddlemere United. Several pictures of Wood (and he did mean Oliver Wood, not Scarlet) with the team also lined the walls. Apparently Wood had given up his spot on the team in pursuit of his new lifestyle.

_What a nutter._

"So, Draco, tell me what's going on," Wood's voice broke Draco from his reverie and he turned to face her casually.

"Um…well, during the War I leaked information to the Order. At the time, none of the Dark Lord's followers could figure out who it was that was leaking information on the muggle attacks. About a month ago, several Death Eaters discovered that I was the mole. I was approached by a contact last week and was advised that I've got a price on my head," he replied anxiously, "twenty thousand galleons, dead or alive. So I decided to appeal to the Order for help."

Draco preferred not to show fear to anyone, it was a sign of weakness, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Harry has asked that I hide you here until this blows over. Do you think that you can handle whatever I might throw at you?" Wood asked pointedly.

_Sure Wood, I'd be delighted to rub tadgers with a bunch of nellies just so you can get your rocks off._

"I am up to the job," Draco replied sourly.

Although he was slightly discomfited with the idea of doing Wood's bidding, he also didn't want to loose the only chance he had at a safe hiding place. He resolved to get over the awkwardness of the situation and give everything he had in order to successfully work with Scarlet Wood.

"Fabulous," Wood answered, a wicked smirk spreading on his face. This particular expression was something that rarely graced Wood's visage. In fact, the only time Draco had ever seen it was directly following a Quidditch match in which Gryffindor had pummeled Slytherin. The appearance of such a devious idiom meant that whatever Wood had in store for Draco would be painfully mortifying.

_Merlin's Great Gargantuan Knob…what the hell have I gotten myself into?_

Harry smiled slyly and nodded at Draco reassuringly. This only made him more apprehensive.

Wood rose from his chair and approached a trunk at the back of her office. She opened it up and began rummaging through it. It was apparently magically enhanced because half of her body had practically disappeared before she finally found what she was looking for. She finally came up for air, a feather boa had wrapped itself around her neck and a sparkly brazier was hanging off of her ear. She pulled the items off of her and threw them back into the trunk.

She turned towards the gentlemen seated across from her and smiled slyly. As she moved forward, her sly grin transformed into a frighteningly devious expression and Draco immediately felt anxiety riddle through his entire body.

_What the hell is this tosser up too?_

"So, Draco, which do you fancy…B or C cup?" Wood asked mischievously and held up a pair of rubber norks in his large, calloused hands.

_Shite._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Rubber Norks and Nob Jockies

"You're joking, right?" Draco asked incredulously.

"I wish I were darling, but no," Wood replied wickedly, "it seems the only way that a handsome devil such as yourself can remain hidden from those pesky Death Eaters is by hiding you in plain sight. None of them would ever think to look for a drag queen. It's perfect."

Draco was absolutely appalled. He looked over at Harry who was slowly turning red from attempting to stifle his laughter.

_I am going to destroy that bloody bastard when this is all over._

"The plan is to have you bartend," Wood said matter-of-factly, "Hermione Granger, whom I'm sure you remember from school, will be available to train you. She'll be delighted as well, she's been begging for another bartender to help her out. We've recently experienced quite a rush since the Ministry had Huffle-Poofs Nightclub condemned."

"So, I'll have to bartend in a…dress?" Draco asked dismayed.

Harry snorted and attempted to cover up his amusement with a cough. Draco had had quite enough of the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-His-Arse. He scowled furiously and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Look, Draco, I realize that this is probably extremely unsettling for you but it's the only way that we'll be able to keep you safe," Harry stated casually, "think about it, what Death Eater would _ever_ come in here?"

"Obviously you think it's a possibility that one of them might since you're making me wear a bloody dress!" he retorted irritably.

"Well, that's just a precaution," Harry replied coolly.

_Precaution my arse…that lousy prat is doing this on purpose!_

"Fantastic," Draco muttered petulantly and appraised the rubber norks Wood held in his hands.

He held out a hand and Wood handed one over to Draco. He studied them carefully, noticing the exquisite craftsmanship of such a peculiar item. They were nude in coloring, extremely pliable, and topped with a realistic nipple. It was utterly bizarre holding a rubber breast in his palm that felt so much like the real thing.

"What size is this?" he asked grumpily.

Wood smiled good-naturedly. "That would be a C cup," he replied, "personally I think you should go with that size. B cups are really better for someone smaller in stature and you, my dear, are no where near _small_."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like the thought of Wood appraising him and he averted his eyes from her face to gaze at the enhancement he held in his hand. It was obvious that no Death Eater would willingly venture into a place like this. Unless, of course, they were harboring their own demented desires, but Draco found that hard to believe. He had to admit that this _place_ was a better option than trying to go into hiding on his own. Also, Potter was approving the plan which meant that Aurors would most likely be alerted to his placement at the club.

"Alright, I suppose if it's this or death, dressing like a bloody queen is my only option," Draco replied tersely, "but know this Potter, I _will_ be paying you back for this little setup…ruddy wanker."

Harry smiled cordially at Draco. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Malfoy," he replied and slapped Draco on the back.

He stepped forward to shake Wood's hand and winked at her playfully.

"Promise to take good care of our little woman, here," Harry stated with a chuckle.

_I hate that prick._

"Of course, Harry," Wood replied sweetly, "and will you be in touch with regard to his case?"

"Yes, I'll be making contact with you weekly via floo. It's too risky trying to send word by owl," Harry stated and frowned darkly, "we've recently found that the Ministry owls have been subject to raiding by wanted Death Eaters. Dark times are still afoot. The Ministry floos are heavily protected and will serve this purpose well."

"Potter," Draco stated firmly as Harry neared the door to Wood's office, "What are we going to do about Granger?"

Harry smiled slyly at Draco and he fidgeted in his chair.

_I __**really**__ hate that prick._

"Why, whatever do you mean Draco?" he replied with a knowing smirk.

"She's smart, you git, she could easily figure this whole thing out," Draco replied in an aggravated tone. St. Potter was getting on his last nerve.

"Only if you give her a reason to be suspicious, Malfoy, which means that I'm afraid you're going to have to control yourself around our dear Hermione," Harry stated with a considerable amount of mirth, "think you can handle it?"

Draco sneered at the raven haired prat and slouched in his chair.

"I suppose," he stated spuriously.

Harry shook his head merrily and quirked a brow. He eyed Draco closely for a minute before chuckling jubilantly and striding out of the office, his deep voice resonating from behind him.

"Be nice, Malfoy. If I hear you're giving her any guff I'll be forced to let her hex you," he stated calculatingly, the tone to his voice a little too knowing for Draco's taste.

Draco turned to Wood, who apparently found the conversation entertaining, and he sighed heavily.

"Alright, where do we start?" he asked in a defeated tone.

"Stand up darling, it will be a hell of a lot easier for me to measure you that way," Wood replied jubilantly.

"Measure me?" Draco asked in alarm. He was _not_ about to allow Wood to brush those large, calloused hands about his body.

"Relax, Draco, I do it magically," she replied and rolled her eyes.

Draco stood up and eyed Wood warily. She strode forward and flicked her wand. A measuring tape shot out and wrapped itself around Draco's chest, then around his waist, and lastly, around his hips. Wood wrote down the measurements, strolled over to a nearby cupboard, and threw open the doors.

Draco's mouth fell open in astonishment. Like Wood's trunk, the cupboard's interior had been enhanced and it revealed a large walk-in closet filled to the brim with ensembles of every style and color of the rainbow. Wood entered the closet and gestured for Draco to follow. Draco looked around at the different outfits, dresses, ball gowns, hell, there were even riding chaps.

_I do __**not**__ want to know what those are for…_

"Welcome to my little boutique," Wood said excitedly, "there are dresses and gowns of every shape and style within this little cupboard and I am positive we will be able to find something perfect for you."

_Perfect? Right…I bet he's just dying to get me into some tight little number so he can check out my package. Blasted Potter, he'll have more than a bleeding lightning shaped scare when I get through with him! _

Wood began fingering several dresses and handing them to Draco. She pulled a crimson colored, taffeta cocktail dress off of a hanger but halted when Draco cleared his throat loudly.

"Don't even think about putting me in Gryffindor colors," he said tetchily.

Wood smirked knowingly and nodded her head in acquiescence. She put the dress back and pulled a silver, sequined gown down off its hanger and Draco nodded approvingly. He fidgeted with the multitude of dresses Wood had shoved at him and the two of them exited the cupboard.

Wood took the dresses from Draco and began laying them out all over the room. The popular colors were black, green or silver and Wood shook his head and smiled slyly.

"You can take the boy out of Slytherin but you can _never _take the Slytherin out of the boy," she muttered with amusement.

"Damn right," Draco replied haughtily and began appraising the gowns they had selected.

One in particular caught his eye. It was a deep emerald satin gown with a fitted bodice and floor length skirt. The back had a billowing train connected at the hips and it flared out beautifully. It was an exquisite gown and Draco pointed at it possessively.

"That one," he stated firmly.

"Ah, yes. This gown has brought me luck in the past," Wood stated nostalgically, "I won my first drag queen competition wearing this little number."

Draco raised a brow sardonically. "Really?" he asked sarcastically, "Who would have thought that such a jock would end up wearing a dress in hopes of winning some ruddy contest telling him he looks more like a bird than the rest of the nellies?"

Wood narrowed her eyes at him and placed her hands on her hips. She was obviously in no mood to be fussed with and she scowled ruthlessly at the arrogant blonde.

"See here, Mr. Malfoy," she spat tersely, "I am doing you a favor and your little quips are not appreciated. Don't think for one minute that I've forgotten who you are and how you treated the Gryffindors back at Hogwarts. You can be assured that if I hear that you have been detestable in any way, especially towards Hermione, I will kick your cute little arse out of this club so fast your head will spin!"

Draco was taken aback by the feminine tirade Wood had unleashed on him and he suddenly realized that dealing with her was not going to be as easy as he initially thought. In addition, it seemed she had quite the soft spot for Granger. Not that Draco blamed her, she was one of the most loyal and compassionate witches Draco had ever met. He expected that Wood held her in the highest regard, just like the rest of the wizarding world.

"Sorry," Draco muttered ruefully, "I'm just a little on edge."

"Well, that I can understand but you're going to have to attempt to be tolerable," Wood stated casually, "remember, no one here knows you accept me and Hermione and she's not privy to this little arrangement. However, if you slip up and treat her as you normally do, she'll likely catch on. So _please_ try to be amicable."

Draco merely nodded in response and began unzipping the back of the dress. Wood strolled over and handed him the rubber norks and a bra.

"Remove your shirt and I'll show you how this works," she stated matter-of-factly.

_Bloody hell…_

* * *

Draco and Wood made their way down to the stage area of the club. Apparently, the four headlining queens had already arrived for rehearsal and Wood was just itching to introduce Draco to the "ladies". Draco was slightly tense as they approached the magnificent group of girls and he fidgeted slightly in the form fitting gown he had been forced to put on. Wood had used a charm to lengthen his hair and it was piled on top of his head in a regal French twist. His makeup had been applied with perfect precision and his steely eyes flashed brilliantly as he gazed around the room.

He glanced over at Wood, who was smiling proudly as they strolled toward the group.

"Well, well, lookie what we have here," said a tall queen with a bright red wig and dazzling green eyes, "a brand new little chick."

The condescension in her tone was entirely evident and Draco fought the urge to sneer at her contemptuously. The other girls turned to look at Draco and he stared at them in a state of shock. They were all exquisitely made up and, surprisingly, they looked exactly like women. Of course, there were the broad shoulders and muscular arms and the outlandishly accessorized outfits, but other than that they were all extremely feminine and believable.

"Ladies, this is Darius McAvoy, otherwise known as Illustra Lacewing," Wood stated and gestured towards Draco.

"And may I present Delish Felicis," Wood continued and gestured towards a tall, brunette with a lanky figure and brilliant blue eyes. She looked like a dancer, with long legs and a lean torso. She wore a fitted black dress and donned tap shoes and a top hat. She looked extremely friendly and was smiling devilishly at Draco, who felt a little uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze.

"Belladonna Knotgrass," Wood stated and pointed to a haughty looking woman with glossy black hair and black eyes to the right of Delish Felicis. She was fairly attractive and had on a sparkly tiara, a hot pink gown and lime green satin slippers. She was staring at Draco with a raised brow and looked slightly put out by his presence.

"Mandragora Flitterbloom," Wood said serenely and motioned to the contemptuous looking red head who glared at Draco ominously. She strolled over to him, her eyes piercing his fiercely. She was tall and thin with an extremely feminine gait and she waved her hand almost dismissively.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," she stated in a sarcastic tone. Her brilliant green eyes flashed and she smirked at him deviously.

Draco, being the crafty Slytherin that he was, smirked back at her with such an impish quality that the woman gaped at him in astonishment.

_I invented the smirk, bloody wench._

"Likewise," he replied and almost flinched at the pitch of his voice. Wood had altered his vocal chords with a Vicissitudo Vox charm and Draco had found the change quite unnerving.

Wood cleared her throat and then gestured to the final woman who was busy flipping her hair in the midst of all of the others.

"And this is the star of our little production, Amortentia Moonstone," she said excitedly.

Amortentia flipped her hair elegantly and turned to face Draco. She strolled proudly towards Draco, her long blonde mane of thick curls cascading down her back in perfect ringlets and her fitted sequin dress hugging her form lovingly.

"Amortentia Moonstone," she said in a superciliously familiar voice, "star of Cabaret and the only reason this place is still in business."

She extended her arm forward and handed Draco an autographed picture of herself. Wood nudged Draco discreetly and he jumped. He grabbed the picture and glanced at it briefly. Amortentia was in the midst of several hundred fans, all of who were bowing down to her reverently. She flipped her hair and held a large, feathered fan as she waltzed through the crowd gracefully.

As he studied the picture more carefully, he realized why Amortentia seemed so familiar. The self-righteous arrogance, the inane vanity, the uncanny knack for believing that any and all success was due solely because of her. Draco looked up at the woman and staggered back in total surprise. This was something he certainly never expected and he brought his hand to his mouth in order to stop himself from gasping. He had always thought that he had remained locked up in St. Mungo's…

_Bloody hell!! Lockhart? _


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N- Chapter Three!! I promise that Hermione will make an appearance...finally!! But I had to set everything up with poor Draco, or should I say Illustra, first before bringing her on..._**

**_Enjoy and please leave a review ir two ; )_**

* * *

Chapter Three: Malfoy's **DO NOT** Glide

"Darling, are you alright?" Amortentia asked haughtily and looked down at him with a quirked brow.

"Um, y-yes," he stammered in awe. It wasn't everyday that you saw your former professor in drag and Draco was considerably astonished.

_First Wood, now Lockhart…has everyone gone mental??_

He looked over at Wood who winked at him and smirked knowingly. Apparently, she found the situation delightful.

"Well, darling, it is a pleasure to meet you," Amortentia continued, "as I mentioned before, I am the star of this show and this club is still in business because of…me," she paused for affect and chuckled self-importantly.

"Uh, that's nice," Draco replied and struggled to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Lockhart had always been quite the self-righteous git. He was even worse than Draco and that said _a lot_.

"Are you joining the show?" Madragora's irritable voice interjected nastily.

"No, darling, Illustra will be helping Miss Granger with the bar," Wood replied on Draco's behalf, "you know how long she's been begging me to bring on extra help."

At this, the remaining queens nodded their heads in acknowledgement and smiled warmly at Draco. The former tension seemed to slip from the room immediately and they all visibly relaxed. Apparently, they had thought he would be joining the show and therefore he had been perceived as some sort of twisted rival.

_Well, you have nothing to worry about because there is no way in Merlin's Holy Hell that I'd be shaking my arse for a bunch of Mary-Sues on this hideously pink stage._

"How fabulous!" Madragora replied excitedly, "Hermione will be absolutely delighted!!"

The red head clapped her hands and strolled over to Draco with her arms extended. Taking his hands in her own and holding them up she smiled and kissed both his cheeks.

"Welcome to The Pink Thestral, darling," she said sweetly and squeezed his hands affectionately before letting go.

Apparently Madragora was quite the double dealing drag queen and Draco made a mental note to watch out for her. It seemed that her claws extended and retracted so easily that he'd have to constantly be guarded when dealing with this particular woman.

"Thank you," he replied cautiously and smiled slightly.

"Illustra, now that you've met the rest of the girls why don't I give you a quick tour of the club?" Wood stated softly and gestured gracefully towards the backstage area.

"Um, okay," he replied and nodded at the queens politely as he and Wood strolled away.

"Oh, no, no, no!!" Delish's voice rung out and both Draco and Wood turned to address the obviously appalled queen.

"What is it, darling?" Wood asked inquisitively.

Delish jumped down from the stage and strode over to them elegantly. Her long legs gained considerable area and she met them within three easy strides. She looked down at Draco, her head shaking in disapproval.

"You, my dear, are much too stiff and manly when you walk!" she stated firmly, "you will need to work on that immediately."

Draco could feel his face flushing as he shifted uncomfortably under her menacing gaze. She was prodding him with her wand and attempting to straighten his back with her free hand. He was in no mood to be told by some fairy that he needed lessons in how to walk like a woman. He was a man, damn it!!

"Sweetheart, please work with me!" Delish said in frustration. Draco's eyes widened as she prodded his hips and attempted to help him take a womanly stance.

"Aha! Just like that!" she said and clapped her hands in approval.

Draco was standing with one leg bent slightly at the knee, the other perfectly straight, and a hand on his hip. This gave him a slightly feminine posture and Delish appraised him with high regard. Draco, on the other hand, felt like a complete fool.

"Perfect darling!! Now, let's see you walk," she stated firmly.

"What?" Draco replied disbelievingly.

"You need to work on that atrocious walk of yours, dear!! Now, chop chop!!" she commanded and Draco grimaced in embarrassment.

The other queens all sniggered behind their hands and watched with great amusement. Draco sighed heavily. He could not believe that he- son of a Death Eater, Slytherin Sex God, Merlin's Gift to All Women- was being forced by a ruddy wanker in a ridiculously tight black dress to walk like a bloody bird. He crossed his arms stubbornly and looked to Wood for aid but she seemed to find the entire situation utterly enjoyable and clapped her hands encouragingly.

Draco scowled venomously and began to walk. After a few steps he was immediately halted by Delish.

"Oh Merlin!! It's just too horrendous for words!! Here," she said, stood behind him, and placed her hands on his hips, "Now walk."

Draco sighed and looked up to the skies as if praying for a lightening bolt to strike him dead. After the ruddy bolt failed to make its appearance, he tentatively stepped forward and felt Delish pushing on his hips as he walked. She forced him to flagrantly swish his pelvis from side to side in quite the effeminate manner and he blushed in total mortification.

"There, you have it!" she cried happily and let go of his hips, "now, continue…yes, perfect!! See, you're gliding!!"

Draco halted abruptly and turned to look at the frantically animated queen who jumped up and down with eagerness. She was entirely too pleased with the whole situation and he gritted his teeth furiously as she squealed with delight, the undertone of her deep voice breaking the bravado of her unnatural pitch.

_Malfoy's __**DO NOT**__ glide…_

"Delish, I think she's had enough for one day," Wood interrupted merrily. The mischievous twinkle in her eye irritated Draco to no end.

Delish nodded and returned to the other queens who were all chuckling merrily. Draco huffed indignantly as they smiled and waved at him facetiously.

_Ridiculous wenches!!_

After his horrible lesson with Delish Felicis, Wood had shown Draco around the club. The building had previously been muggle operated and had, at one point, been a brothel. There was a hidden room that had been utilized by the "ladies of the night" at the back of Wood's office and it had been outfitted nicely as a bedroom for Draco. It had a large fireplace, which Harry could utilize to floo into the club in secret, a comfortable bed, and several bookcases with hundreds of books collected by Wood over the years. Draco had to admit that the former Gryffindor had certainly gone out of her way to ensure Draco's comfort and he felt more than remorseful, considering the way he had treated her back at Hogwarts. Yes, when this was all over, Draco would certainly be indebted to the former jock.

At present, Draco was lying on the large four poster bed and staring up at the ceiling. He had awoken early in anticipation of starting his new bartending position. If he'd been quite honest with himself, he'd admit that Granger had more to do with his current trepidation than any anxiety about his new job. He fumbled with his wand and allowed his thoughts to consume him. He could recall the last time he had seen Hermione Granger perfectly. It had been about a year ago, just after his trial.

_Draco strolled out of the Ministry next to Harry Potter. The two men stopped and turned to address one another awkwardly. _

"_I guess I just wanted to say thanks, you know, for testifying in there," Draco mumbled nervously._

_He looked up at Harry and noticed that a small grin graced his features. _

"_Not a problem Malfoy. I know that a lot of horrible things happened during the war and that you never had much of an option when it came to choosing a side," Harry replied genuinely._

_Draco looked at his former nemesis and noticed the wisdom that seemed to shine in his eyes. It was obvious that Harry Potter had dealt with something that not many were privy to and for the first time in his life Draco felt empathy for the man that stood before him. He suddenly realized that Harry's life had, indeed, not been as perfect as he had believed. All of that glory came with a heavy price. He had lost many of his loved ones. Who had Draco lost? Crabbe, his Auntie Bella (a raving loon, in his good opinion), and a host of Death Eaters who had never sworn allegiance to anyone but a maniacal mad man hell bent on eradicating all muggleborns. _

"_Harry!!" a sweet voice tickled Draco's ear and the two men turned to face a pretty brunette hastening towards them. _

_Hermione Granger, the muggleborn witch who had proven time and again that her kind was, without a doubt, as gifted as any pureblood, strode toward them excitedly. _

_Her pace slowed considerably as she realized that it was, in fact, Draco Malfoy standing with Harry and her eyes widened slightly in astonishment. She didn't stop however and maintained her objective, throwing her arms around Harry's neck with affection. It was in that particular moment, the moment when Harry had someone to hold him and when Draco had no one at all, that he finally got it. He finally felt something that he had never experienced before wash over him. It was no longer the self pity that he had wallowed in for years...it was regret. _

_Hermione pulled away from Harry and smiled at him sweetly. _

"_Where's Ron?" Harry asked quickly._

"_Eating…where else?" she replied irritably and, taking a deep breath, turned to face the man who had done nothing but torment her for seven whole years. _

"_Hello Malfoy," she said hesitantly._

"_Granger," he replied coolly._

_Draco looked at Harry again and nodded curtly. "Thanks again, Potter," he said decisively._

"_I'll see you around then, eh Malfoy?" Harry asked and raised a brow inquisitively._

_Draco was mildly surprised by Harry's obvious neutrality to all that had occurred._

"_Sure," Draco replied politely. He nodded again at Hermione and began striding away. As he got to the bottom of the steps he turned around and noticed that they were watching him with identical expressions._

_Draco took a long, deep, precarious breath and then opened his mouth to speak. "I'm sure this will never make up for any of it, but I'm truly sorry for everything that I ever said to either of you," he stated firmly, "I was a foolish boy too afraid to question my father or stand up for myself."_

_He looked down at his feet and suddenly felt his cheeks growing warm as he prepared himself to address the girl who had always lingered in the back of his mind. She had always challenged him and that alone had caused him to ponder over her more than he should have. In truth, he had always been too afraid to give into the temptation that was Hermione Granger. She was the forbidden fruit and Draco's father would have died on the spot if he had ever openly expressed the strange feelings that always seemed to manifest whenever she was around._

"_Granger…H- Hermione, I, I never really believed that you were inferior. You were and are the most brilliant witch I've ever met and your blood never really mattered. I apologize for being such a pain…you didn't deserve it."_

_Just before he apparated away, he looked up at her and noticed that her beautiful, brown, watery eyes seemed to fill with something that could only be defined as gratitude. _

That one unfathomable look had haunted him every single day since. Even now, as he prepared himself to see her again, that damn look was as fresh as the day she had turned it on him. He had longed to know what she had been thinking and had questioned whether he should attempt to find out. However, his certainity that she had scoffed at his apology, and his undeniable cowardice, had always prevented him from doing that very thing.

Draco sat up abruptly as a knock resounded through the hidden room.

"Who is it?" he said cautiously and pointed his wand at the door.

"It's Scarlet Wood, darling," the muffled, Scottish brogue sounded through the solid wood and Draco strolled over and removed the wards.

Wood entered the room and smiled appreciatively at her surroundings.

"I trust you slept well?" she asked warmly.

"Yes, thank you. It was nice of you to put me up in such acceptable quarters," he replied appreciatively.

"Of course, darling," she replied, "And are you quite over that dreadful lesson from yesterday? I should have warned you about Delish, she can be a bit imposing at times."

"A _bit_?" Draco retorted grumpily.

"Alright, alright, she is completely overbearing," Wood admitted with a giggle, "the woman seems so subtle and sweet but then the Dictator inside of her abruptly emerges and throws you for a loop. It can be quite unnerving and I apologize for that."

"Whatever," Draco replied gliblyand shook his head, "at least now I know how to _glide_."

Wood giggled again and Draco smirked roguishly.

"Did the elves treat you to breakfast yet?" Wood inquired formally.

"Yes, thank you," Draco replied, "I didn't expect you to have elves here."

"Really, why is that?"

"Um, hello…Granger," Draco stated with amusement.

"Ah yes, well, she has insisted that we provide wages and proper working conditions," Wood stated with a chuckle, "She can be quite fanatical at times."

"_At_ _times_?" Draco replied and rolled his eyes.

"Yep, and you better watch your step because she's a total pit bull when it comes to her bar!!" Wood said with unrepressed glee, "Speaking of, let's get you dressed and down to meet with her. She's been dying to meet the new queen who will be helping her out!!"

Draco felt his stomach knotting in anticipation. He was suddenly extremely nervous and he sat down on the edge of his bed and clasped his hands. He watched as Wood began pulling out numerous gowns for him to choose from and he shook his head in disbelief.

_Blast! Why am I so nervous? Get a grip, Draco. So what if in less than an hour you'll be standing in front of the one of the brightest, not to mention cutest, witches you've ever met…you'll be fine…so get it together! _

After some exquisite wand handling by Wood and Draco's approval, the two emerged from the office and descended the stairs. Anyone who knew Draco certainly would not have been able to recognize him now. Wood had done a spectacular job of gussying him up. He looked exactly like a woman and nothing like his former arrogant self, save for his unavoidable smirk which Wood had warned him not to flash too often.

As they approached the bar, Draco noticed Hermione right away. She was chatting with Mandragora and Delish and she chortled lightly at something that Delish had said. Draco cringed as he sauntered up to the bar. He could feel the unmistakable sensation of complete mortification wash over him and he prayed to Merlin that she wouldn't recognize him.

"Hermione, darling," Wood said sweetly, "let me introduce you to our newest employee. This is Darius McAvoy, better know as Illustra Lacewing."

Hermione turned towards Draco and he literally felt his heart stop. She was even more striking than he remembered. Her wild mane was piled into a messy bun on the top of her head and several rebellious ringlets had popped out and framed her pretty face. Her dark brown eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly and she wiped her hand on her faded blue jeans and extended it forward.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger, it's lovely to meet you, Darius. Or, would you prefer Illustra?" she said sweetly.

"We all call her Illustra," Wood interjected and nudged Draco, who nodded immediately.

Draco took her hand and as their skin made contact he felt a spark of electricity shoot through him. She looked down at their clasped hands with a furrowed brow. Apparently, she had felt it too.

"Nice to meet you," he stated calmly, the pitch of his voice surprising him yet again.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, her eyes scrutinizing his face closely. Draco could feel the apprehension building within him again and he hoped that she wouldn't recognize him.

"Illustra is from Bath," Wood stated abruptly and Hermione looked at her and smiled.

"Really? That's lovely," she replied, "reminds of me Jane Austen…she had close ties to Bath, though she preferred the country above all."

Hermione began babbling excitedly about the muggle author and Draco fought the urge to smirk at her knowingly. She was still the insufferable know-it-all he remembered from school.

"Hermione, hon, we need to get Illustra orientated. Now, you know I love chatting with you about academics but you only have six hours to train the poor girl before the show tonight," Wood stated firmly.

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Yes, Scarlet, sorry…you know how easily I get carried away when it comes to books," she replied with a giggle.

_She'd probably have a bloody orgasm if I even mentioned that bloke, what's his name, Shakspreane? Hmmm, actually, that wouldn't be so bad after all. Hehehe…_

"Well," she said and turned to look at him with a bright smile, "shall we get to work then?"

Draco nodded and came around to the other side of the bar.

"Just show me where to begin," he replied as politely as possible. This whole being civil to Granger thing was new for him and he was finding it extremely unnerving, to say the least.

"Alright. Um, I guess I'll star off by teaching you how to make the club's signature drink," she said with a repressed laugh, "it's called the Pink Plimpy."

_Merlin's Massive Blue Bollocks…I'm officially in queer hell._


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N- Okay, so here is Chappie Four!! Sorry for the brief hiatus but I had a busy weekend and have been tweaking my sequel to my one shot- Love in an Elevator...woot!!_**

**_Enjoy and review please!!_**

* * *

**_Chapter Four: Bartending Boot Camp_**

After two hours of bartender training, Draco Malfoy had discovered that his sentiments regarding the entire charade had been well founded. He _was _in queer hell. He had already deflected the advances of several men, spilled an entire bottle of sweet and sour mix all over Hermione, much to her chagrin, and managed to set the bar top on fire when attempting to make another ridiculous signaturedrink called The Fire Crab. Luckily, his wand skills were still on the mark and he had been able to extinguish the fire without any major damage to the club. Needless to say, it had not been his day.

There was still a good few hours before the club's production of Cabaret would go on and Draco was worried that he would not be able to assist Hermione as expected. She had been nothing but understanding the entire time, even after he had inadvertently dumped the mix down the front of her white blouse, conveniently turning it into a sheer blouse.

_Hehehe…that turned out better than expected, the girl's got quite a rack…_

His eyes had wandered over her fit form a little too noticeably and she had blushed madly at his reaction. Draco had quickly turned away but he inexplicably felt his own cheeks burning and heat pooling in his nether region from the _unexpected_ situation.

Also, he admittedly was not used to her pleasantries and found her easygoing nature and willingness to help extremely charming. This, he had not expected. In truth, he had hoped that they would continue their usual banter and several times he had slipped, shooting a sarcastic comment her way to which she would reply effortlessly and giggle. This had not been the norm between them during school. No, during school their banter had bordered on merciless and now that it seemed significantly less callous and more like playful teasing, Draco had begun to notice things about Hermione he had failed, or perhaps refused, to acknowledge before.

She was extraordinarily kind. He had always known that she was friendly, but her willingness to go out of her way to help people was astonishing. Being a Slytherin, he could admit that he didn't fully understand her ability to be so kind without an agenda. However, secretly, he found it endearing. She was also even more intelligent than she had been in school, if that was possible. Potter had mentioned that she was attending Wizarding University and boy had it paid off. She was a literal genius and Draco had found himself completely in awe of the gradual evolvement of their conversations. She had read half of the books contained in the library at Malfoy Manor, from what he could remember, which said a lot considering it was almost as vast as the Hogwarts library.

That said, she was still the typical bookworm. He had discovered a stash of volumes under the bar, which he assumed she read during off hours or when they unexpectedly had a slow night. Draco had pulled the first volume out and smirked immediately, it was _Hogwarts: A History_. He recalled that Hermione could often be found carrying this particular book during their time at Hogwarts. In fact, he couldn't remember a time when she hadn't had her nose buried in it. He chuckled to himself and shook his head.

_Leave it to Granger to still be carrying around this blasted book. _

"What are you…oh!" Hermione exclaimed with mild surprise and began blushing slightly, "I see you found my secret stash."

"Yeah," he replied, unaware of the trademark smirk that had taken up residence on his visage, "who'd of thought that you, of all people, would hide books under the bar?"

Hermione looked up at him abruptly. Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open. She was backing away slightly and then halted when she hit the bar.

"Is something wrong," he asked, quickly dropping the smirk and furrowing his brows inquisitively.

Hermione breathed in deeply and shook her head, as if scolding herself internally. She chortled lightly and then wet her lips.

"No, no, I'm sorry…you- you just reminded me of someone," she stated glibly.

"Oh?" he replied, fighting the urge to let the sly grin creep over his face, "and who would that be?"

Hermione looked at her feet quickly and mumbled something. She appeared to be slightly uncomfortable and she leaned against the bar and sighed. She looked up at him and bit her lip.

"Just a guy I went to school with," she said somberly, "you just…you had this look on your face that was…it was uncanny."

"Really? Well, seeing as you have Hogwarts: A History stashed under your bar I am guessing it is your alma mater?" he asked knowingly.

Hermione brightened immediately and smiled. "Yes! It is," she replied excitedly, "I absolutely loved it there."

"I happened to go there too," he stated proudly.

It was Hermione's turn to furrow her brows and she looked at him appraisingly.

"I have to admit that I don't recognize you," she stated after inspecting him for several minutes, "did you know me?"

Draco smiled as serenely as possible, hoping to throw off any suspicions she might have about his identity.

"I knew of you," he said casually, "I was a couple years ahead of you."

"Hmmm, Darius McAvoy…sounds slightly familiar," she replied tapping her index finger on her chin.

Draco's smirk had come back with a vengeance. Fooling the brilliant witch was actually becoming quite fun.

_She'll never put her finger on it…the Slytherin Prince in drag?? Even she'd loose her lunch at the prospect._

"What house were you in? Did you play Quidditch?" she began peppering him with questions and suddenly he felt entirely annoyed that he had told her anything at all.

_Merlin's Moldy Knickers! She's still the nosiest witch this side of bloody Britain!_

"Look, not to be a downer or anything but I think we should probably get back to training," he stated firmly, "I am going to have to help you once this ruddy show goes on and I'm afraid my skills are not exactly honed, as of yet."

"You can say that again," she replied with a giggle, "you nearly set my hair on fire."

"Look Granger, I don't need you giving me a hard time! So train, damn it!" he stated in aggravation, the pitch in his voice floundering under his petulant tone.

"W- what did you call me?" she asked in disbelief.

"I called you Granger. That is your name, isn't it?" he said quickly.

"Please, call me Hermione," she said and frowned at him.

"Fine, _Hermione_, let's get to work," he replied and grabbed a nearby rag and began wiping the bar top gracefully.

Hermione watched him closely and he silently chided himself for dropping so many hints. It was just too hard for him not to toy with the blasted woman. Just because he was in a dress didn't mean he could shed his witty demeanor. He was a Malfoy and it was a part of him.

Over the next few hours, Draco improved greatly. He decided to put the amount of energy he had applied towards his school studies towards this ridiculous job. His determination had surprisingly paid off and he had actually managed to create four of the club's signature drinks- The Pink Plimpy, The Fire Crab (with Hermione standing behind him, her Augmenti charm at the ready), The Blueberry Banshee, and the Apricot Ashwinder.

"Well, I think you're as ready as you're gonna get," Hermione muttered and began pulling a bag out from under the bar.

"I'm tops at this Granger…I mean, Hermione," he replied proudly and smiled at her with just a hint of his trademark smirk.

Hermione gave him another inspective glance but it eventually gave way to a warm smile. She giggled and shook her head, apparently deciding that she was delusional. She threw her bag over her shoulder and began to walk towards the backstage area but turned abruptly to address him.

"You should probably go get ready. The curtain goes up in an hour so we'll likely see the first rush in the next thirty minutes," she said and winked at him playfully.

Draco felt a slight tingle in his stomach as he grappled with the fact that Hermione had seemed slightly coquettish while addressing him. How could she have done that? She's talking to a ruddy queen!

_Maybe she's into that type of thing…Wait a minute!! This is Granger we're talking about, not some freaky slag! She's the pure little virgin…the Gryffindor Prude…the sweet innocent little witch whose never even had a kiss…well, accept maybe Weasley, but he doesn't count! _

"Yes, but it's been a year since you've seen her. Maybe she's experienced more than you think," an annoying little voice resounded in his head.

_No way!! She'd never shag somebody unless she were engaged…and I know she's not, there's no ring on her finger._

"Ah, so you were scoping out her hand for a ring, were you?" the blasted voice replied.

_No I was not, thank you very much! I just happened to see that she did not have…oh forget it! Why am I talking to you anyway??_

Draco stormed off toward the stairwell leading to Wood's office, fighting with the little voice all the way. He was really becoming a bit mental, what with being surrounded by Wood and his horde of hags, the Golden Gryffindor Prude and her bloody brilliant arse, and the ridiculous outfits he was forced to don. This particular number was riding up in the most sensitive of places and Draco had fought the urge to _adjust_ himself on several occasions. Yes, the man was officially a sickle short of a galleon.

He entered the office without knocking and was met with quite a sight. Wood was locking lips with Belladonna. Their hands were roaming freely over their embellished bodies and Draco stumbled backwards in total shock

_Holy Hipppogriff Shite! _

"Uh, sorry…" he trailed off and began to hasten down the stairs. His stomach was churning queasily and he fought the urge to wretch.

_Bugger me! Was that really necessary?? I mean, damn, do I have to be subjected to this shite? I'm going to murder Potter when I see him!_

"Illustra!!" Belladonna's smooth voice rang out and Draco halted immediately. He turned to face the blushing queen and quirked a brow expectantly.

"Darling, don't worry about that," she assured Draco quietly, "it was an honest mistake."

She reached out and patted Draco on the shoulder sweetly. Her large hands were clumsy and strange and Draco once again felt apprehensive. This was seriously wrong.

"Now, I'd appreciate if you do not mention this to Mandragora," Belladonna whispered cattily, "she'd likely start an uprising amongst the others if she knew I was shagging the boss. It's not like Scarlet and I are exclusive or anything, anyway."

Draco nodded awkwardly and then looked at a spot on the wall behind Belladonna's raven head. The other queen stepped a little closer and cocked her head in front of Draco's line of vision. She smirked at him in a slightly seductive manner and he recoiled immediately.

"Is there something wrong, dear?" Belladonna asked saucily, her hand toying with the expansive collar on Draco's gown.

"Um, no," Draco said uncomfortably, shrugging off her hand nonchalantly and stepping around her. He hurried up the stairs as fast as the blasted heels on his aching feet would carry him, glancing back once. Belladonna was watching him with a wily expression on her expertly made over face and Draco felt a chill shoot down his spine. She was going to be a problem, that one.

As Draco entered the office, he made certain to knock this time. Wood's Scottish brogue sounded through the door and Draco cracked it open and stuck his head in.

"Is it safe?" he asked sarcastically.

Wood rolled her eyes and gestured for him to come in. Draco stepped through the door and crossed his arms.

"You could have at least warned me," he said tetchily.

"Look Malfoy, you don't get it, these queens all want a piece of me," Wood said frustratingly.

"Oh, believe me, I get it," Draco said arrogantly, "or don't you recall my infamous rep as Hogwarts most desirable male?"

"I think Amortentia might disagree with you there," Wood replied with a chuckle, "As you know, she believes that _she _was and is the most desirable."

Draco snorted and shook his head. "You could have warned me about that, too!" he stated incredulously.

Wood giggled furiously. "And miss the look on your face?? No bloody way!" she cried merrily, "Now, how did everything go with our dear Hermione?"

"Oh, just wonderful," he replied sarcastically, "I've so enjoyed making froo froo drinks named by a bunch of ruddy wankers pretending to be women."

Wood chuckled and sat back, listening intently as Draco complained and changed out of the gown he had been wearing.

"Alright, what the hell am I supposed to wear?" he asked and looked towards Wood warily, crossing his arms protectively over his well developed chest, "and it better not be some ridiculously tiny number showing off my naughty bits for your own amusement."

Wood giggled again and shook her head. "No Draco, it isn't," she replied and pulled out a tuxedo costume, which consisted of black stockings, black short shorts, a tight white tee, a fitted black vest and a black bow tie.

Draco looked at it and rolled his eyes. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," he said and grabbed the costume roughly.

_This is just brilliant…how the hell do you get these on?_

He attempted to put on the stockings, effectively ripping through the fragile lycra in the process and cursing vehemently.

_What moron invented these?? Damn it, I can't even get my foot through…mother…ow…ow…stupid, bloody stockings…ow…how do you get your foot to…shite, I ripped that part…damn it…ow!!_

Wood watched with considerable mirth as Draco fought with the ludicrous lycra. He had essentially ripped it to shreds and was currently struggling furiously, bent over, one foot encased in the flimsy material, runs abundant, and his arm caught through the other leg causing him to stumble about and crash into Wood's desk. Apparently, lycra was Draco's proverbial Kryptonite.

"Draco, darling," Wood said through her laughter, "I think you should allow me to help you."

Draco growled from his spot on the floor where he was rolling around and frantically wrestling with the stringent stockings.

Wood waved her wand, and the stockings immediately covered Draco's lower half seamlessly. There were no longer any runs and Draco looked at Wood gratefully.

"Thanks," he breathed and continued putting on the costume. Once he was finished, he looked at himself in the mirror and sighed heavily. There was no doubt that the "female version" of Draco Malfoy was actually quite a looker _but _he was still not used to seeing himself as a bloody bird. It was truly unnerving.

Wood clapped her hands and let out a wolf whistle. "Nice arse," she teased mercilessly and Draco spun around, grabbing his cheeks protectively.

Wood only laughed harder and shook her head. "Get to work! I'm sure Hermione is waiting for you, _hot stuff_," she stated slyly and giggled as he saluted her with the bird.

Draco stomped out of the office, ensuring that his arse was out the door before Wood could take another peek. He felt like a total fool in this ridiculous outfit and trudged brutishly towards the bar, ignoring the hysterical screeching of Delish Felicis about his walk. He was in no mood to _glide_ and if that ruddy wench didn't shut her effing hole he was going to shove her wand right down her throat.

_She'd probably enjoy it too much up the other end. Hehehe…_

Draco rounded the bar and halted abruptly. His eyes grew to the size of saucers as he surveyed the extremely toned backside clad in short black shorts staring back at him. Suddenly, the owner of said backside stood up fully and turned around.

_Damn it Granger…_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Cabaret!

Draco looked away as quickly as possible, hoping that Hermione had failed to see the appreciative look in his eyes as they had swept over her tremendously fit figure. She had always been slender in school, almost boyish, with her tiny waist, modest bosom, and baggy robes. He had only caught a glimpse of what was beneath those robes a couple of times but even then it was nothing compared to the insanely gorgeous body that stood before him now. She was clad in an identical outfit, which he found absolutely ludicrous as there was no doubt that the witch looked better in it than he did. She was, after all, a woman and the outfit he currently donned had certainly not been made for a man.

Her shapely legs were surprisingly long for such a petite witch and the smooth flare of her slight hips was extremely attractive. Although her shape _could_ be defined as hourglass, she was by no means a bombshell. Her waist was very small, accentuating the soft swell of her breasts and her skin, which almost glowed under the bizarre pink lighting, was soft and creamy. Draco suddenly felt the urge to reach out and touch it.

He kept his eyes averted from her as she began stocking the bar. However, she moved in such a graceful manner that his gaze was once again drawn to her and he allowed his eyes to roam freely as she focused her attention elsewhere. She had let her hair down and her long, springy curls cascaded down her back like a wild tide of water coursing over rocks. The ringlets were smooth and buoyant, unlike the frizzy mess he could recall from school. She had finally learned to tame the rebellious coif and he smiled approvingly. She turned toward him and leaned sideways slightly, allowing her hair to fall away from her face and expose the soft curve of her creamy neck. He suddenly had an urgent need to run his tongue along the crook of her collarbone and up under her ear, to that sensitive spot that always drove him wild. He wondered if she held similar sentiments regarding that spot. Perhaps someday he would be able to test that theory.

_Hehe...I'll do more than that...the witch would probably see stars by the time I got done with her...ugh, speaking of stars..._

He turned away and inhaled deeply. He _had_ literally seen stars from his apparent lack of oxygen and he panted to regain a steady pattern of breaths. He peeked back at her as she bent down to retrieve a stack of glasses and was graced with another view of her delicious backside.

_This is going to be a long night…_

She turned around abruptly and strode toward him. His eyes took in her easy stride and he smirked approvingly at the gentle sway of her hips and the lackadaisical determination in her tired eyes. It had already been a long day and Draco could tell that she was tired.

"Why don't you take a break for a few minutes," he stated firmly, "just tell me what I need to do to prepare."

Hermione glanced up at him and smiled. "Really?" she asked gratefully, "you don't mind?"

Draco rolled his eyes and stepped forward. He gripped her shoulders tightly and steered her toward a stool at the back of the bar.

"Sit," he commanded and pushed her down lightly. His hands grazed her arms evenly, the same electricity sparking furiously as his skin made contact with hers. She looked up at him again, a foreign look taking over her pretty face and he let go of her instinctively and stepped back. The thudding of his racing pulse in his ears brought him back to reality and he cursed at himself for allowing his feelings to override what was really important. He could not reveal his identity, no matter what. It could not only lead to his demise, but his carelessness could possibly injure Hermione. That thought alone caused him to focus more clearly on the issue at hand.

He glanced around cautiously, hoping no one had noticed their brief interaction. Any minor slip up could tip off any innocent bystander to the fact that he clearly was not gay. Hermione was staring at him with a peculiar look on her face and he silently prayed to Merlin that she had not figured him out. He leaned back against the bar nonchalantly and quirked an eyebrow at the pretty witch.

"What can I do?" he asked and she flinched slightly. Apparently, she had been in the midst of a deliberation and she blushed madly and looked down at her feet. Draco smirked, wondering exactly what the little witch had been thinking about to cause her to flush so quickly.

"Um, you need to stock the ice and put out the glasses. Also, make sure we have plenty of mixes stocked under the bar," she said and stifled a yawn.

Draco nodded and turned towards the kitchen. "Oh, and when you bring the mixes back, do try not to spill any of them all over me," she quipped elegantly and Draco snorted.

"I'll try," he replied spuriously and began "gliding" towards the kitchen. Delish noticed his effeminate walk and applauded him from her spot backstage.

"Wonderful darling!" she cried and he nodded at her curtly.

He noticed Belladonna standing just behind her and he looked away quickly. Unfortunately for him, the ruddy wench had spotted him and immediately hastened over.

_What could this prissy queen possibly want now?_

"Illustra," Belladonna's husky voice breathed on his neck and Draco immediately shuddered in repulsion.

He turned quickly to address the queen but her hands were on his shoulders and she kept him from turning around.

"You promise not to tell anyone about earlier, right?" she said saucily and leaned in close to his ear. Draco could literally feel his skin crawling and he suddenly felt extreme fury coursing through him. If this touchy pillow biter didn't back off he was ready to split her pouty little lip.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth and she giggled lightly.

"Fabulous," she replied and leaned toward him again, "you know, I must say that you look quite tempting in this outfit."

Draco attempted to pull away again but Belladonna's grip held fast.

"No gratitude for my compliment?" she asked hotly and her breath tickled his ear. He suddenly felt her hand squeeze his arse and he spun around and pushed her.

She squealed in surprise and stumbled backwards, teetering precariously on her impossibly high stilettos. Draco watched with considerable mirth as she swayed backwards and then tumbled over a nearby table, her heels kicking furiously in the air. Draco had a perfect view straight down her dress and caught a glimpse of her lime green knickers. She screeched unceremoniously and cursed at him but he only watched in awe as the other queens rushed forward and demanded an explanation, Scarlet Wood among them. She plastered Draco with a death glare and he recoiled slightly under her steely gaze.

"What the hell is going on here?" Wood demanded. Hermione appeared just behind Wood and peered over her shoulder with an amused yet slightly hesitant look.

"This ruddy wench was trying to feel me up and I didn't appreciate it," he answered defensively.

Belladonna was still on her back struggling furiously, looking quite similar to cockroach that had managed to flip itself over. Her legs were still kicking madly, her arse caught on the table due to the ridiculous appliquéd ruffles down her back, and her face was bright red with anger as she stared at Draco malevolently. He bit his lip to keep himself from laughing.

"Belladonna, you know better than that!" Wood scolded, "I informed you that she is new at this!"

Wood bent over and helped Belladonna from her spot on the floor. She stood up quickly and eyed Draco venomously.

"I was only being friendly! Since when does a gay deflect advances? She is utterly bizarre!" Belladonna cried and stamped her foot menacingly.

"Look," Draco began, "I'm sorry, but I don't appreciate being groped, alright?"

Belladonna was still fuming but Scarlet Wood whispered in her ear and she calmed down slightly. She glanced at Draco, nodded curtly, and then stormed off to prepare for the show.

After she had disappeared from view, Madragora turned to Draco and applauded.

"That was fabulous!!" she cried approvingly, "she looked like a bloody cockroach stuck on its back!!"

The other queens all burst out laughing and Draco joined in merrily. Perhaps he had been too hasty in judging Madragora. After all, they did have similar sentiments regarding Belladonna the Blasted Bitch…foul, little cockroach. Shoving that wrist flicking fuck had felt really good and a bit of the ol' Malfoy spirit suddenly rose from within. He smirked triumphantly as he watched the other queens scatter and then turned to find Hermione, staring at him with her arms crossed. She wore a familiar look on her face, one he had seen many times during his years at Hogwarts. Apparently, she disapproved. He fought back the urge to laugh right in her face, for some odd reason he found it quite amusing that she was attempting to chastise a bloke in a dress.

"Kitchen," she said firmly and pointed towards the back.

Draco nodded and grinned slyly as he turned and strode toward his destination.

He returned to the bar a few minutes later with the mixes and a few stacks of clean glasses. Hermione was reading a muggle novel and she glanced up at him quickly as he staggered past her. He caught his heel on the rubber mat just inside the bar area and stumbled forward. Hermione instinctively grabbed him from behind and hauled him back. His back slammed against her chest and he could feel the curve of her breasts against him. His breath hitched in his throat and his heart started hammering once again.

_Damn this woman! I can't believe this…what the hell is happening to me?_

"Maybe you're falling for her," it was that bloody voice again.

_I am__** not**__ falling for the Gryffindor Princess…I adamantly refuse!!_

"You can't stop yourself from falling in love…it just happens," the aggravating little voice replied.

_I assure you that love is not in the equation…shagging her rotten, now that's a different story…_

"_Right_, so the fact that she's the most brilliant witch you've ever met doesn't even matter?" it replied mockingly.

_Bugger off!! I couldn't give a dragon's left bullock for her brains…her brilliant arse however…_

Hermione cleared her throat and Draco realized that she had released her grip on him. He was still standing there, glasses and mix in hand, fighting with the little voice like a complete and utter loon.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

"Uh, yeah, just fine," he replied and began stocking the bar.

"That was a close call there, Darius," she said and then blushed, "sorry, I mean Illustra."

Draco wondered why she had called him Darius, why she had referred to him as a man. He continued to ponder on this as an influx of men suddenly crowded around the bar and the house lights began to flicker, signifying that the show would soon begin. Draco looked up to see several queens running around like a bunch of crazed buffoons hopped up on dragonroot. He shook his head and then turned to address a large man who was eyeing him provocatively.

_Back the eff up, butch boy…_

He fought his well practiced sneer and smiled coyly at the burly man. "What can I get for you?"

* * *

Later that night, Draco found himself completely immersed in Cabaret! The play was a parody based on the Le Chat Noir, the famous French cabaret opened by Rodolphe Salis in the 19th century. Madragora was befittingly the conférencier (or MC) and the other queens were the performers, Amortentia being the _Pierre de Le Chat Noir _(Jewel of the Black Cat). It was actually very well performed and all of them were show stoppers, though Amortentia was by far the best. She had blown the other queens away with her amazing vocal range and Draco had to admit that Lockhart had finally found something he, er, she was good at. Perhaps now she would stop taking credit for other people's accomplishments and focus on her own.

After the start of the show, the only drinks to be served were those ordered by the cocktail waitresses as they circled the seating area. Wood had fashioned the club to function as any French cabaret would and therefore the show was accompanied by a first class dinner of Filet Mignon, baby asparagus, and red potatoes. Wine parings were also offered with the meal and Draco smiled as Hermione babbled on knowledgeably to a patron who had inquired about the best wines to accompany red meat. She was well-informed and very polite and the man ended up ordering three bottles of the most expensive red wine on the menu. Draco had to admit that he was impressed. She had flattered the man effortlessly in an attempt to up-sell, thereby securing quite a little tip for herself in the process.

_Cunning little wench…I'm surprised she wasn't sorted into Slytherin…_

As the show ended Draco found himself applauding along with the other patrons. He suddenly realized that he respected the hard work that had gone into this establishment. Wood had really outdone herself with this place. As the patrons filed out of the club, Draco busied himself with cleaning up the bar top. His graceful movements and easy strides did not go unnoticed and he caught Hermione appraising him out of the corner of his eye. She had her brows knitted together as she inspected his profile and she bit her bottom lip cautiously. He quickly turned away and began wiping the bar opposite her, preoccupying himself with his duties. He flinched as a small hand darted out and gripped his own, effectively stopping him from continuing his cleaning.

"Are you even gay, Darius?" she asked suddenly, her melodious voice light but slightly demanding.

"What?" he responded, feigning dismay.

"Are you gay?" she replied, her hand never leaving his own and her eyes searching his inquisitively.

"Why do you want to know?" he whispered softly.

"Because, you have deflected every advance, hell, you even rejected Belladonna, andsometimes the way that you look at me..." she trailed off and looked down at her feet in embarrassment.

Draco turned to face her. "How _do_ I look at you, Granger?" he breathed, unable to contain the seductive predator caged inside of him. He had temporarily forgotten his promise to call her Hermione and she gasped lightly at his pitched, silky drawl.

Draco looked away quickly and felt the anxiety riddle through him. He had to stop dropping these ridiculous hints…he had pulled off being a spy for the bloody Order without Voldemort _or _the Ministry figuring it out yet he couldn't seem to keep his head on straight around this blasted witch.

_Son of a bitch! Get an effing grip, man! _

She furrowed her brows and cocked her head. "Who are you?" she whispered and Draco felt his breath catch in his throat. He made to pull away but she stepped forward, blocking his escape, her hand gripping his more tightly.

"Tell me," she growled.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about," he replied adamantly and pulled his hand away. He crossed her arms and looked down at her, quirking his brow sardonically.

"You'd better tell me what you're playing at," she said forcefully and glared at him with malice.

Draco laughed dismissively at her failed attempt to be intimidating. He stepped around her with ease and began to saunter towards the kitchens, a stack of dirty glasses in hand.

_Or what Granger, you'll go tell Potty on me?? Too late…the blasted git is in on it!!_

"Is something funny?" a low voice said from directly behind him, "_tell_ me…what _is_ so funny."

Draco paused and opened his mouth. His back was to her so she couldn't see the torn look on his face. He felt obligated to keep his secret, not only for his own safety, but also hers, however he knew this particular woman all too well and was aware of her consummate persistence. Nevertheless, he would attempt to keep his identity under wraps until she had figured it out for herself. He shook his head and began striding away.

"Tell me now," she growled again and pressed the tip of her wand into his back, "or I'll hex you into oblivion…_Malfoy_."

Draco felt more than heard the glasses crashing into a million tiny shards at his feet.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Lord Muck in Love

"Who?" Draco asked, feigning ignorance. He was going to keep up the charade until she forced him to admit his identity.

"Cut the crap Malfoy, I know it's you," she replied coldly and stepped back. He sensed that her wand was still trained on him and he sighed deeply. This was not good.

"Turn around," she growled.

Draco spun around so quickly that Hermione's eyes boggled slightly. Taking advantage of the slight distraction he gripped the end of her wand and pulled her forward. She squealed in protest and his hand shot up, muffling her screeches. He gripped her waist and turned on the spot, which was extremely difficult considering the rabid wench in his arms continued to struggle madly and shriek like a bloody banshee. Draco had never apparated in heels before and their landing was less than graceful. He stumbled clumsily as his feet met the floor and Hermione instinctively grasped onto his shoulders in an attempt to steady them both. Her attempts were in vain however as his teetering frame easily overpowered her smaller one and the two of them crashed to the ground in a rather unflattering heap.

"Ow! Damn it Malfoy, what is your bloody problem!" she screamed angrily and rolled off him in a huff. She sat up and looked down at him sprawled on the floor looking quite disheveled.

He had managed to muss his long, blonde hair and it was sticking out all over the place. Hermione had smeared his formerly perfect make up during the struggle and his eyeliner was clumped up under both eyes making him look quite similar to a raccoon. He had also managed to bust the first few buttons on his vest, his bow tie was completely askew, and his stockings had runs all over the place. He looked like a bloody dosser, or worse, his Auntie Bella completely off her box. As Hermione's eyes swept over his ridiculous appearance she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

Draco narrowed his eyes warily. "What the hell is so funny?" he asked a bit resentfully.

Hermione's shoulders were shaking but no sound was coming out of her mouth. She looked as though she might be having a fit, though Draco knew she was trying her hardest not to outright laugh in his face.

"You- you…" she stammered, "you look so funny!"

And with that, she burst into a fit of giggles. "I could never imagine, not in a million years, that you…_you_…of all people would be dressed in drag," she managed to spit out through her hysterical laughter.

Draco crossed his arms and leaned back against his bed. He was sulking like a child but he didn't care, he did not take mockery well. Growing up as a Malfoy had precluded him from this particular situation and now that he was practically at the mercy of the one witch who had always managed to brass him off, well, he was not exactly content. In fact, he was down right irritated.

_Blasted Potter…I will never forgive him for this…_

"Oh shut it Granger," he muttered irritably and Hermione began laughing harder. Apparently, his aggravation was even more amusing and she beat her fist on the floor and clutched her stomach.

"I thought you were supposed to be angry with me, anyway," Draco said bitterly and Hermione rubbed the tears from her eyes and breathed deeply.

"I was, but…" she trailed off and giggled again, "You just look so hilarious in that ridiculous get up!"

"You're wearing the _same_ _thing_, Granger," he replied sourly and averted his eyes from her lovely face.

She chuckled and shook her head. "Touché," she said finally and then sighed, "Now explain _why _you are dressed up like a bloody bird…and please spare me if it's some freaky fetish…I'm in no mood to hear about the varied nature of your promiscuity."

Draco smirked wickedly and quirked a brow, he had every intention of showing her just how _varied _he could be, and it certainly did not involve him in a dress. Suddenly he had some very definite ideas about the riding chaps in Wood's closet.

_Hmmm, maybe Wood had a good reason for buying those ruddy chaps after all…_

Hermione raised a brow at his impish expression and then wrinkled her nose. "Please tell me that's not a confirmation," she said fearfully.

Draco chuckled. "No worries Granger, dressing up like a woman doesn't exactly get my rocks off," he stated firmly.

_But you clad in a pair of riding chaps and a cowboy hat riding me like a good little cowgirl is another thing entirely…hehehe…_

"Oh thank Merlin," she said and sighed in relief, "then…_why_?"

"Well, obviously you aren't supposed to be privy to this situation, so I don't know if I'm at liberty to divulge exactly _why_ I am here," he replied matter-of-factly.

Hermione apparently did not appreciate this answer and she frowned immediately.

"Perhaps you should tell me anyway," she said roughly and twiddled with her wand, "I'd hate to have to tip off anyone like, oh, Rita Skeeter to the fact that you, of all people, are working in a gay night club and dressing in drag."

"Are you actually threatening me? Little goody-goody Granger is threatening to tip me off to the Daily Prophet's most unbearable hag?" he retorted coldly.

"Don't call me that," she said tersely, her anger quickly returning, "and I have no qualms about turning your lousy arse into that miserable _hag_. Oh, and by the way, I have quite a pull with her so don't think for one minute that she wouldn't do _exactly_ what I say."

Draco scowled at her callously. He was not going to be blackmailed into anything, damn it! Hermione Granger would rue the day that she attempted to force him to do anything at all! He clenched his jaw obstinately and refused to meet her eyes. He would not be telling her anything.

"Spill, Malfoy, or I will," she growled.

He glanced back at her and noticed that she was entirely serious. Her eyes danced with fury and she looked stringent and completely immoveable. Draco rolled his eyes. She could be entirely stubborn at times and he found it more than aggravating.

"I don't think it's a good idea to involve you," he muttered dejectedly.

"I think that's my concern, now tell me."

She leaned forward and met Draco's cold stare with a firm yet smug expression and he sighed in frustration.

_Infernal wench! Aargh! Everything just has to be her bloody way!_

"Fine!" he shouted eventually, "but don't say I didn't warn you."

Hermione nodded curtly and gestured for him to continue. Draco quirked a brow sardonically and pressed his lips into a thin line. He was quite sure he resembled McGonagall as his face had tightened considerably.

"As you know, I leaked information to the Order during the War," he stated dully.

Hermione nodded and Draco continued.

"Well, apparently, a few of the Death Eaters that are still at large uncovered this information and hold me partially responsible for Voldemort's downfall," he continued quietly, "they are particularly irritated with me and have placed a price on my head, twenty thousand, dead or alive."

Hermione gasped and her hands clapped over her mouth. Her big, brown eyes were as wide as galleons and she looked extremely alarmed.

"So, you're hiding out _here_?" she whispered.

"Yeah, I mean, it wasn't exactly my idea. I went to Potter and the Weasel-"

Hermione shot him a dirty look and he rolled is eyes.

"Fine, _Weasley_, for help and they placed me here under Wood's care," Draco replied resentfully, "and I am going to destroy both of them when this is all over."

Hermione's lips twitched slightly and she raised a brow. "So Harry and Ron placed you here, eh?" she said and shook her head, "and they actually thought that I wouldn't figure it out?"

"That's exactly what I said when Harry told me you worked here," he replied and shook his head, "It's not like your particularly daft or anything. Potter can certainly be a moron at times."

Hermione smiled slyly. She regarded him coolly, her expression completely unfathomable and Draco suddenly felt strangely anxious.

"Right," she said finally and then stood up, "well, that explains why you shoved Belladonna. I have to admit, that was rather funny. I think she'll reconsider groping any of the new queens in the future."

Draco snorted and shook his head. "That wench needed to be knocked on her arse," he concurred.

Hermione reached down and took Draco's hand, pulling him up. He towered over her and she stepped back a bit. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at his face. Draco moved back a bit, a little leery of her intentions.

"Scourgify," she said softly and instantly Draco reached up and felt his face. It was completely clean and devoid of any and all make up. Hermione flicked her wand again and Draco's hair went back to normal. He nodded appreciatively and sat down on his bed.

Hermione remained standing a few feet away. Now that the cat was out of the bag it seemed that the two of them no longer had anything to discuss. She shifted uneasily and Draco could literally cut the tension in the room with a knife, it was that tangible.

"So…" he said casually.

"So," she replied and looked down at her feet, "um, I'm guessing this is the brothel room Wood set you up in?"

"Yeah," he replied approvingly, "she really has been hospitable."

"Well, if you had given any of the Gryffindors a chance in school you would have noticed that we can be quite giving, Malfoy," she said sternly.

Draco raised his brows. "Still the intolerable wench, I see," he replied glibly and she glared at him.

"Still the twitchy, little ferret…can't even keep himself under wraps around a goody-goody Gryffindor," she retorted coolly and cocked her head to the side.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Hey, it's not my fault that you're a nosy swot," he spat back. It was quite unbelievable that the two of them could not seem to get on without arguing. Draco sniggered to himself as he surveyed her irritated expression.

_Draco, one…nosy swot, zero…_

"Bugger off Malfoy!!" she shot back and crossed her arms, "Merlin, why can't you just grow up?"

Draco stood up and strode over to her. She watched in awe as he neared, her stern expression segued to one of guarded uncertainty. Draco halted just inches from where she stood and leaned down. He gazed at her intently, his eyes sliding languidly over the soft features of her face. Eventually, they fixed on the flecked irises of her dark eyes and he suddenly felt as if he were drowning in their shadowy depths. Their proximity was not to be ignored and Draco had become acutely aware of her presence, noticing the tiniest little details. One of her rambunctious curls had popped out from behind her ear and it hung exultantly, framing the side of her lovely face. Her bow tie was coming undone and her tight white tee was askew, granting him a small view of the tops of her full breasts peeking out from behind the fitted black vest that clung to her lovingly. Her chest heaved in the most becoming manner, her breaths hitching slightly and her cheeks flushing as he neared her.

"I think it is perfectly obvious that I've grown up, Granger," he drawled wickedly, his hot breath blowing softly on her face. She closed her eyes and stepped back instinctively, her back pressing against the door to the small room.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a calculative manner. He couldn't contain the wolfish expression that had crept onto his face.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she nodded incoherently. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied hastily, "I best be going, I'm meeting Ron after work for drinks."

"At this hour?" Draco said disbelievingly, though he couldn't deny the uncomfortable sensation that rocketed through him at the thought of her meeting up with the Weasel.

"Yes," she said lightly, "so, please, let me go."

Draco was considerably surprised by the beseeching tone of her sweet voice. He looked at her entreating eyes and suddenly felt compelled to seal the door shut and never let her leave. He _wanted _her to stay. She was the only person, besides Wood, he could be himself around and suddenly he felt he needed that outlet.

"Stay," he implored and she looked up at him in shock.

"What?" she replied hesitantly, "why?"

"Granger, I'm going completely mental in here all alone! I need some bloody conversation!" he replied and gripped his hair frantically.

Hermione looked surprised by his candid answer and she raised a brow in contemplation. She shrugged and gestured for him to sit down on the bed. Draco grinned roguishly and she narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

"Not a chance," she said firmly, "now talk."

Draco plopped down on the bed and leaned elegantly against the headboard. He placed his hands behind his head and threw his long legs up in a leisurely manner. Hermione surveyed him calmly and then chuckled. She rolled her eyes as she shook her head with considerable mirth.

"What?" he asked curiously.

"You are the only man I know who could pull off looking elegant in that blasted outfit!" she said and chortled again.

Draco smirked arrogantly and waggled his brows. "Was that a compliment Granger?" he asked slyly.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Malfoy, I could easily abandon your arse without compunction," she replied wickedly, a smug grin spreading over her pretty face.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed in defeat, though his smirk hadn't faltered in the least.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since his "outing" and Draco had managed to successfully maintain his cover, with the exception of his minor slip up with Hermione. He had to admit that attempting to fool someone of her immense intelligence was a ridiculous notion. Potter really was a fool...the sheer capacity of Hermione's brilliant mind was startling.

Potter had kept his promise, flooing in each week and reporting the current standings. So far, they had managed to capture three of the five Death Eaters that Draco's contact had identified. This was good news and Draco found himself hoping to be out of this ridiculous club soon. Regardless of his optimistic outlook, he was highly suspicious of Potter's antics and he knew that the git was getting a kick out of his misery. He had become absolutely positive of that fact ever since their last meeting when the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-The-Shite-Out-Of-Him brought along the Weasel King. It had been less than comfortable, to say the least. The lousy redhead had made a point to mention that Draco's walk was less than feminine and Draco had made a point to punch the prat right in the nose.

Hermoine had been less than pleased with the entire situations, scolding the both of them for their childish behavior. Draco had been considerably surprised by her anger towards the Weasel, he had suspected that her allegience would lie with the him but she had remained neutral. Again, this was another Gryffindor trait that blew his mind...she was loyal to _everyone_ she considered a friend and, apparently, Draco was one of them.

Since then, the two of them had actually managed to work together quite well, despite a few well founded arguments. Draco had taken to the usual routine banter, something Hermione seemed to respond to in stride. The two of them were an oddity of sorts, though he was clad in an identical outfit and his hair was long and silky, which she seemed to envy quite openly, she held no regard for his outer appearance whatsoever. He was merely "Malfoy" and she seemed to rise to any challenge he presented. Gone was the sweet façade she had initially forged and in its place was the witty, short tempered wench he had always loved to aggravate. He found that his feelings had not changed much since school. Now that they were on an even playing field, well, slightly even, she _did_ seem to have a minor advantage considering his outward appearance, he found it increasingly amusing to make life difficult for her. Though the callous nature of their school days was completely gone, the passionate intensity to beat each other out was still clearly evident.

"Malfoy, could you get off you arse and help me?" Hermione said through gritted teeth. She found it increasingly difficult to address him as Illustra, something he had been forced to remind her of on several occasions.

"Granger, when are you going to get it through that big, bushy head of yours that my name is Illustra?" he hissed lowly and rolled his eyes.

"I'll address you by that ridiculous name when you get your annoying arse out of that chair and help me stock the bar, you prat!" she retorted petulantly.

Draco smirked wolfishly and stretched his long, lean arms overhead. "But I can enjoy the view much better from here," he said wickedly as she bent over to retrieve a few bottles of liquor from beneath the bar.

Hermione stood up quickly and spun around, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. Draco found this considerably amusing and he chuckled merrily at her flustered appearance.

"Relax Granger, I don't bite…_hard_."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "I find it completely asinine that you have no problems whatsoever being a total cad while in that outfit," she said shaking her head, "you truly are an anomaly, _Illustra_."

Draco's impish smirk deepened and he stood up slowly. "And don't you forget it," he replied mockingly and clipped her chin with his index finger.

Hermione quirked a brow and regarded him silently. Her big brown eyes traveled the length of his body and his smirk segued to a roguish grin.

"Enjoying yourself Granger?" he asked superciliously, "not that I blame you, I make even the art of dressing like a bloody bird look good."

"Merlin's Beard, Malfoy, you are such an arrogant prat!" she replied hotly, turned on her heel and swept towards the kitchen.

Draco watched her as she went. She certainly had the blasted _glide _down to an art. He'd never seen a girl with a better bum in all his life and she had managed to capture his attention rather quickly. It was becoming a little aggravating, to be honest. She was the only person, besides Wood, that he had had the ability to converse with as himself and he had suddenly begun to feel awkward around her. Of course, he would never let her see that, as far as she was concerned, he was still the same proud, intelligent, and slightly self-righteous bloke she had known in school. Though he had caught her eyes lingering on him more often than naught.

_Of course she likes looking at me. I am, after all, insanely attractive, even in a dress…_

"You really need to cut the crap and own up to the fact that you like her."

Damn that bloody voice.

_I do not like her!! I just find her minutely attractive, that's all…_

"Minutely attractive? What does that even mean? That isn't even a characterization in your blasted head!!" the voice chided him blatantly.

_How the hell would you know_?

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps because I _am _your blasted head, you prat!" the voice said bitterly, "now get off your arse and tell her how you feel!"

_The only thing I'd like to feel is her nice, toned, rear-_

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked softly.

He turned around quickly and quirked a brow haughtily.

"Yes Granger?" he replied glibly.

She furrowed her brows and looked him over. Her eyes skated over his form once again and this time he couldn't deny the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps the blasted voice had a _small_ point, she was more than minutely attractive, she was bloody beautiful.

"Are you okay? You looked a little…distracted" she replied, a concerned expresson gracing her pretty face.

"I'm just fine Granger, now, let's get to work," he said dismissively .

He was in no mood to deal with her nosy tactics. She could easily ascertain the feelings of others and the last thing he needed was for her to suspect that he felt anything for her other than total aggravation. That would spin things into quite the chaotic mess. He was already dealing with enough stress, he didn't need to add whether he did or did not have feelings for Hermione sodding Granger to that list. He turned away and began wiping the bar top gracefully.

_Get a grip Draco, St. Potter will catch the bloody Death Eaters and you'll be out of here in no time…far away from bossy Ms. Know-It-All and her ridiculously amazing arse._


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N- Alright, my longest chapter to date but I couldn't cut it!! There is actually a lot more to this chpater but I was forced to split it into two so Chappie 8 should be posted fairly soon : )_**

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Chapter Seven: A Well Deserved Mini-Break

Draco was lounging against the bar sluggishly, head in his hands, his long, silky locks draped around him as he glared at the thick mahogany in frustration. Just another couple of weeks and he would be out of this hellhole. Besides dealing with the Gryffindor Princess daily, there were several other things that were bothering him. Belladonna and her evil sneer had made things somewhat difficult since the "incident", wearing lycra on a daily basis had gotten monotonous, and he didn't even want to get into the chaffing, and if he had to deal with one more butch bitch squeezing his arse he was seriously contemplating going postal. Needless to say, things had steadily gotten a bit more aggravating as each day passed.

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He hoped that Potter could pull this off without endangering Draco or anyone else at the club, especially Hermione.

"Sounds to me like you're finally coming to terms with the fact that you care for her."

The blasted voice was just another thing that had started to eat away at his normally complacent spirit.

_I just don't want to see her dead. I assure you that once this is all over I will have no trouble at all walking away from Britain's Most Irritating Know-It-All…_

He was unaware that the very object of his thoughts was currently gazing at him just a few feet away. Hermione had entered the club and stopped short upon seeing Draco in such a defeated posture. She stood silently, off to the side, and appraised him with interest. After a minute or two, Draco had the distinct feeling that he was being watched and he glanced over his shoulder anxiously. Expecting to find an angry Death Eater, he was pleasantly surprised to find Hermione standing stock still, a large tote on her shoulder, staring at him intently. It was supposed to be her day off and he wondered what she was doing here. He turned to survey her more closely and it was then that he noticed her expression. He felt his cheeks growing warm under her scrutiny. It wasn't the fact that she was staring that caused him to flush. No, it was the _way_ she was looking at him that had caused the unusual swell of blood in his cheeks _and_ the ridiculous fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach. She looked at him with compassionate understanding, something he had not expected. It was an entirely different sentiment than the normal mixture of irritation and enthusiasm, as if the challenge he proposed daily lit a fire within her. In truth, he had noticed her apparent liveliness in his presence and, in truth, he found it all the more appealing, something he hated admitting to himself.

"Was there something you wanted, Granger?" he drawled in a bored tone. He hoped she hadn't noticed the tint to his cheeks. Not that she could under all the make up Wood had piled on that morning.

Hermione walked slowly towards the bar and threw her bag up on the counter.

"You know, I tend to forget that you're obviously dealing with a lot," she began quietly, "what do you think about taking the day off?"

Draco raised a brow and looked at her with interest. "And how do you propose I pull that off?" he replied irritably, "I can't exactly leave this blasted club and St. Potter would have my hide if I tried sneaking out."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. Draco was really rather curious as to what she was thinking. She was most likely concocting some brilliant plan that would allow him to escape the horrors of dealing with yet another day in queer hell. She bit her lip as she deliberated and then, coming to a decision, she smiled coyly.

"Well, I suppose I could always apparate you to my flat," she said softly and cast her eyes downwards, "it would give you a break from the club for a day and you could hang out as yourself instead of '_Illustra'_."

Draco looked at her quizzically and she shifted uneasily under his thoughtful gaze. It _was_ a good idea, no one would have any idea where he was and he could finally relax as Draco Malfoy instead of Illustra bloody Lacewing.

"You wouldn't mind?" he asked casually. His face was fixed with a disbelieving expression and he crossed his arms nonchalantly in an attempt to downplay his excitement.

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "Not as long as you don't mind my company," she replied uneasily. Draco was a bit surprised by her obvious anxiety, was it the fact that she would have to deal with her former nemesis that made her so uneasy, or something else entirely?

"I suppose I can find a way to deal with it," he sniffed haughtily.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Leave it to you to turn an entirely civil conversation right on its arse," she replied tersely.

Draco sniggered appreciatively. If there was one thing about Hermione Granger that he _did_ enjoy, it was her candor. The bloody Gryffindor certainly had no qualms about telling you exactly how she felt about things, even if it was a bit disgruntling at times.

"Well, are you going to tell Wood, or am I?" he pressed.

"Ah, so you _are_ looking forward to this," she replied, a smug smile spreading over her pretty face.

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "Look Granger, if you're just going to give me a hard time I'd-"

"Alright, alright," she interjected snippily, "hold your bleeding hippogriffs. I'll go notify Scarlet of the change."

Hermione turned around and strolled toward the office slowly. Draco narrowed his eyes as he watched her retreat at such a leisurely stride. It called far too much attention to her ridiculously toned backside and he sneered contemptuously. The woman was either fully aware of his fascination with her arse or she was purposely moving at the rate of an effing tortoise just to irritate him. Either reason was infuriating.

_Blasted wench better watch out…she doesn't know what she's getting herself into today…_

Draco smirked wickedly as several images played in his head. He really should have told Wood himself- then he could have grabbed those ruddy chaps.

_She really would look quite hot to trot in those… a feisty little breed mare…hehehe…_

Hermione returned and looked at Draco questioningly. He was staring down at the bar top and grinning wolfishly, giving him the air of a ponce, which was quite a feat considering what he was wearing. The fitted black dress was rather revealing and it clung to him tightly, showing off his athletic frame. The shock of his white blonde hair and soft pale skin against the inky material was astonishing and he truly looked every bit the part a perfect queen. That is, except for the naughty expression on his colorful visage which had successfully eliminated the queen known as "Illustra" and allowed the cad known as Draco Malfoy to eagerly emerge.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" she asked suddenly and Draco flinched and looked up at her in surprise.

"Uh…nothing," he replied with a suspicious snigger, "everything set?"

Hermione raised a brow and crossed her arms. "Yeah," she replied hesitantly, "you _sure_ you're okay?"

"Would you stop with the blasted inquiries already? I'm fine," he retorted petulantly.

Hermione was entirely too meddlesome at times and he feared that her inane intelligence would flush out his feelings for her…not that he had any. He would have to be very careful not to make her think that his emotions ran any deeper than friendship. Sure, he thought she was beautiful, and of course he found her brilliance absolutely amazing, but did he really want someone so ridiculously intelligent? Did he really want someone so kind and so witty? Could he really see himself with someone so…so…

_Bugger me!! I am falling for her!!_

"I hate to say I told you so but-"

_Can it! Or the word lobotomy will become a part of your vocabulary..._

Actually, a lobotomy was not such a bad idea. Obviously Draco had to of lost it somewhere down the line. He, the most eligible of eligible bachelors, had fallen for a ruddy Gryffindor! And not just any Gryffindor, but the blasted princess of their goody-goody realm! It was too atrocious to even fathom.

_Merlin's Massively Swollen Knob…this is not good…_

He supposed it wasn't hard to believe. He had been cooped up in this nauseating club for nearly a month with no one to talk to except for Scarlet Wood, an interesting bird but a flaming queen all the same, and Hermione Granger, a brilliant but fanatical witch hell bent on implementing equal rights to even a blastended skrewt. Draco had chosen to converse with the lesser of the two evils, preferring to keep a level head instead of trying to understand the demented thought process of a jock turned pillow biter. As a result, he had been tossed into a world of upheaval. His fears of falling for the witch had been justified. He had been right to suspect that such an atrocity would occur.

But in all fairness, how could he have helped himself? He had been raised to appreciate the best in life, to cultivate a palate for intellect and refinery. Hermione may not have been the most refined of witches but etiquette could be taught…intelligence and beauty could not. Traits such as those could only be possessed and Hermione's appearance, though outwardly appealing, was due to the virtuous radiance that illuminated her character. She was completely pure, a noble young woman whose lust for compassion drove her fanaticism, though her purity was not without shear obstinacy. She was bold and fiery, a force to be reckoned with, and her loyal determination was all encompassing. Not to mention the fact that she was one of the most gifted witches he had ever met. There wasn't a spell she couldn't master and her drive was insurmountable.

In truth, Draco hadn't had a prayer. He could blame the fates, or maybe even Scarhead, for this irritating predicament but in the end he would have to admit that he, himself, was really to blame. Had he stuck to the original plan and kept his wits about him perhaps he would not have had to worry. Would he have fallen for her if she had no idea of his identity? The possibility was uncertain. He could have fallen for her based on her appealing traits. She was, after all, an extremely kind and very helpful young woman. However, he believed that their chemistry was derived from their acknowledgement of one another. They were two reeds blowing wildly in the wind, connecting every now and again when a gust would force one upon the other. The whip like sensation of her guarded tongue, the cracking sound of his searing retorts, two reeds dancing in fate's undercurrent, unsure of their future but certainly aware of each other. Draco had never experienced chemistry like this with anyone else. Hermione Granger was the only one who sparked the fire within him.

"Draco?" Hermione's sweet voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. He looked up at her expectantly. The acknowledgement of these newly discovered feelings gripped his stomach in vice-like knots. Suddenly, he was extremely aware of the likely possibility that she did not reciprocate his feelings.

"What?" he asked blearily, "wait, did you just call me Draco?"

Hermione looked slightly alarmed. Apparently, she had. Draco smirked roguishly and Hermione's alarm segued to irritation.

"Move your arse," she muttered tetchily and Draco chortled in a rather self-satisfying manner.

They strode towards the apparition point towards the back of the club and Hermione took hold of his arm. The same electric current sparked between them and Hermione looked up at him, completely nonplussed. Even Draco couldn't explain the sensation that occurred when the two of them touched, but he liked it all the same.

Hermione shook her head and gripped his arm tighter. She turned on the spot and Draco felt the familiar vacuum-like sensation pulling him through a narrow tube. He felt a whoosh of air exhale from his lungs and just before he passed out from lack of oxygen, the two of them landed in the middle of Hermione's flat. He grabbed hold of the mantle just behind them and managed to stay in an upright position. Apparation in heels was definitely something that would take considerable time to master- he sincerely had no idea how women did it.

"Well, here we are," Hermione said softly and Draco glanced around him in awe.

They were standing in a cozy little L shaped room that made up the living and dining areas of Hermione's flat. A long row of windows made up the right hand side of the room and looked out over Western London. It was a fabulous view and Draco could see the Thames if he leaned a bit to his left. The living area was charming, albeit a little small. It housed a single leather sofa and one leather club chair, both in a rich espresso. A solid looking coffee table made of smooth mahogany was centered in front of the sofa. It was filled with books, a few back issues of the Daily Prophet, and a broken Sneakoscope surrounded by tools. Beneath it was a plush green woolen rug and a frizzy puff of orange fur he recognized as Hermione's cat, otherwise known as that muggle bloke Santa's (or was it Santana's?) spawn.

The leather chair looked extremely inviting and well worn. It was obvious that Hermione enjoyed curling up in it with a good book. It was fairly large, with a maroon cashmere throw hung over the back. A floor lamp was positioned directly over the chair for ample lighting and a small end table stood adjacent to it and the sofa. A tower of tomes teetered on top of the table and Draco bit back a laugh. Hermione was clearly every bit the nerd he remembered, there wasn't a surface in this bloody flat that didn't have a book on it. He turned around and noticed one of those muggle contraptions, a fellytision, angled in the far right hand corner, the fireplace just next to it.

The fireplace was quaint, a small firebox just big enough for flooing in one at a time, and the floo powder was readily available in a small basket near the fellytision. The mantle was covered with pictures of Hermione's friends and what Draco assumed was her family. Several pictures of she, Harry and Ron waved at him gleefully from their strategic locations within the barrage of photos. A still picture of Hermione and two muggles stood at the far end and Draco immediately assumed that they were her parents. Her mother had the same long, mahogany curls and a pair of wide chocolate eyes, though their depth was nothing compared to Hermione's.

At the other end of the mantle stood a picture of their graduating class taken just after the reconstruction of Hogwarts. Draco moved toward it slowly and stared at it intently. He located the younger version of himself waving at the camera contently. This younger Draco was happy, seemingly carefree, and totally convinced that they were all free of tyranny and oppression. This younger Draco was also proud. He had helped the Order, he had proven his worth, and he had never been more wrong. The war still raged and though the light side appeared to have the upper hand, the muggle attacks continued and now even Draco was forced to hide out due to his betrayal during the second war.

He turned around to face Hermione. She gazed at him, her deep dark eyes appraising him with softly. The intensity in her eyes was startling, and he felt completely lost in their murky depths. He felt transfixed by them as he stared back, unable to look away, and she too seemed slightly caught up in the moment.

She shook her head quickly and cleared her throat. "Um, did you want to change first?" she asked and Draco ran a hand through his hair.

"Actually, I'd prefer to have my hair and face back," he replied eagerly, "damn, I forgot to grab my wand."

"I've got it," Hermione replied and pulled it out of her tote, "grabbed it out of your room when I spoke with Wood."

"Oh, thanks," Draco said appreciatively and grabbed his wand excitedly. The smooth wood felt good in his hand and he smiled blissfully.

Hermione giggled and he looked up at her. "What?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

"Nothing, I just know that feeling," she stated nostalgically, "nothing feels better than reclaiming your wand. When I forget it or find it unnecessary to use for some reason, I feel like a part of me is missing."

Draco nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it," he replied irritably, "I've been going nuts having to use it for making cocktails."

He flicked his wand smoothly, silently murmuring the charm and his hair, makeup, and the ridiculous pitch to his voice immediately disappeared. Hermione smiled approvingly and then threw her tote bag at him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I grabbed some of your clothes, too," she said quickly, "I'll be in the kitchen while you change. Did you want a cup of tea or something?"

"Got any firewhiskey?" he replied wickedly.

Hermione raised a brow and cocked her head to the side. "At this hour?" she said looking at the clock on the wall.

Draco glanced at the time, it was half past twelve. In his good opinion, it was a perfectly acceptable time to partake in a good glass of whiskey.

"Firewhiskey please," he stated firmly and Hermione shrugged her shoulders and nodded once.

Draco pulled out a pair of jeans and a gray cashmere sweater. He pulled off the binding gown and flicked his wand over the horrendous lycra that currently covered his lower half. A quick Diffindo charm split the ruddy material in two and he pulled it off of his body with ease. There was no way in hell he was about to battle the bloody lycra beast with Hermione only one room away. The last thing he needed was for her to walk through the door and find him rolling around on the floor wrestling a pair of stockings.

He pulled off the ridiculous brazier and chucked it and the rubber norks into the tote bag. Happy to be rid of the annoying rubber enhancements, he pulled on his jeans and sweater and then plopped giddily onto the couch. He threw his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back with his eyes closed. It was fairly quiet in Hermione's flat, save for her tinkering in the kitchen, and Draco felt extremely peaceful for the first time in a long while. He opened his eyes and inspected a nearby bookcase. It was filled with texts both muggle and magical alike. One title in particular leapt out at him and he pulled the book from its spot and opened it to the first page.

Hermione slipped into the room with a tray in hand. It was laden with cheese and fruit and two wine glasses. Draco quirked a brow as she placed the tray on the table.

"I'm all out of firewhiskey," she said and pulled out her wand. She waved it at the bottle and it uncorked itself. Draco chuckled as she picked up the bottle and began pouring a glass.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"The quintessential muggleborn," he replied and shook his head, "only you would uncork the bottle with magic and then physically pour the glasses."

Hermione shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I find it satisfying to do things for myself. I wouldn't expect you to understand," she said quickly.

As the contention of her words sunk in she cringed and looked at him apologetically.

"I've gotten far worse than that, I assure you Granger," he replied glibly and waved his hand, "don't worry your fuzzy little head."

She frowned slightly and handed him a glass of white wine.

"I know but, well, after…um…well, I- I just shouldn't keep looking at things so one dimensionally," she stammered nervously.

She bit her lip and looked away from him and Draco immediately knew she had alluded to something she had not meant to. Her posture further supported his suspicion, she was looking down at her lap and sipping her wine, and he suddenly felt very interested in what she was trying to hide.

"What do you mean, Granger?" he asked casually, "after what?"

Hermione glanced at him quickly and he caught a glimpse of the look on her face. She looked positively alarmed, not to mention annoyed that he had caught her little slip.

"Granger?" he pressed.

"What Malfoy?" she replied tetchily. It was obvious she did not want to explain further.

"After what?"

Hermione sighed heavily and pursed her lips. She looked at him and set her jaw firmly. Apparently, she was attempting to stand her ground but Draco was not having any of it. He crossed his arms, raised a brow, and fixed her with an expectant gaze.

"Ung! You are impossible!" she cried frustratingly, "why do you want to know?"

"Because you don't _want_ me to know," he replied smugly and sipped his wine.

Hermione snorted and took another sip. "Typical," she said stormily, "are you always this candid?"

Draco smirked arrogantly and leaned back against the sofa. "Yes," he said firmly, "beating around the bush tends to get monotonous…now spill."

Hermione inhaled deeply and fixed him with a withering glare. She twirled one of her curls around her finger and bit her lip anxiously. Finally, she closed her eyes and nodded once.

"Alright, alright," she said softly, "after you made a point to apologize to me."

Draco had just taken a sip of his wine and he choked unexpectedly, spluttering the golden liquid down the front of his sweater. Hermione looked surprised by his reaction and she giggled furiously. Obviously he looked quite amusing, but he had good reason. That was the last thing he had expected her to say. He stared at her, wide-eyed, mouth agape, with wine dribbling down his chin. In all honesty, the term surprised was an understatement.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8- Finding Neverland

"Here you go Malfoy," Hermione said handing him a napkin. She sniggered to herself and Draco frowned.

"I suppose you find it amusing that I've doused myself with wine?" he asked tetchily.

"Absolutely," Hermione replied smugly and took another sip from her glass, "I guess you weren't expecting me to say that."

Draco looked at her warily. She was right. It had been the last thing he expected her to say. He had always thought of his apology to Harry and Hermione as a feeble attempt to justify the sins of his past. He honestly thought that neither of them had really taken stock in his words. Apparently, he had been wrong.

"Why did it surprise you so?" Hermione asked and gazed thoughtfully at the broken Sneakoscope on the coffee table.

Draco shifted uneasily. He hated this part, hated discussing overly emotional issues, and this particular subject was definitely right up there with declaring his love for the nosy swot to his right. It made him quite uneasy to discuss his feelings regarding the Golden Trio…he had many regrets when it came right down to it.

"Malfoy?" Hermione pressed lightly and he sighed. She would never stop pushing him, he knew, so he decided to give in to her overly obstinate nature.

"Yeah, it surprised me," he stated glumly, "I guess you could say that I didn't believe that either of you deemed my apology as worthy."

Hermione looked up at him in mild surprise. Her eyes scrutinized his face and he suddenly felt even more leery in this strange setting. Having a heart to heart with the bloody Gryffindor Golden Girl had not exactly been on today's agenda and he sipped his wine in an effort to force his thoughts away from the impending barrage of questions likely to follow.

"Why would you think that?" she asked quizzically, her brown eyes were fixed on his face intently and he scooted back a bit, afraid that she might see something he desperately tried to keep hidden away.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I treated you and your friends like complete filth," he replied derisively.

"No, you treated Ron and Harry like enemies, you only treated me like filth," she stated without emotion.

Draco nearly cringed as her words cut him to the core. She was right, of course, and he couldn't deny it. He quickly realized that he had never felt more horrible than he did at that moment. He looked up at her, into the dark eyes that still bore into him with strange ambivalence, and he felt his face fall. The sorrow was there, he knew it was, and he hated himself for it. How could he allow her to see him like this? To see him almost…vulnerable? He recovered quickly, pulling his features into a vacant expression.

"I'm sorry," he said, his words were barely audible and his face was completely impassive.

"I know," Hermione replied just as quietly.

Draco pulled his brows together, unsure of where to steer the discourse. Did she want to hear more? Did she expect him to grovel or plead for her forgiveness? He had expressed his regret for his childish antics, for his bigotry, for treating her so maliciously. What did she want from him?! There was nothing left in him to give…he had wasted his emotions on himself long ago. Why did she stir something within him that had long since fallen dormant? Suddenly, he was very sorry that he had agreed to spend the day with her.

He looked up at her and frowned. "What? What more can I say? I said I was sorry, I meant it! Can't we just drop it?" he said irritably.

"No," Hermione replied simply. Her face was completely expressionless.

Draco looked at her in complete befuddlement. "Why not?"

"Because, you _don't_ _want_ to drop it," she stated cryptically.

_What does she know what I want? If she had any idea what I really want she'd know that I'd much rather be making use of this couch productively…hehehe…_

"What the hell are you on about, Granger?" he replied dismissively.

Hermione set her wine glass down on the coffee table and faced Draco. Again, her eyes bore into him and again he felt extremely uneasy. He scooted back a bit more and she smirked at him.

"That, right there," she said and pointed to his positioning on the couch, "why do you keep scooting away from me?"

Draco scowled at her ridiculous ability to observe every little move he made.

_Blasted wench should be a bloody detective...she's just like that muggle bloke Hemlock Bones…_

Draco's scowl slowly morphed into his trademark smirk. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the couch casually.

"Ah, so you don't want me to scoot away from you, is that it?" he replied wolfishly and waggled his brows.

Hermione raised a brow sardonically. "Do you always do this?" she asked.

"Do what, Granger," he replied arrogantly and sipped his wine.

"Attempt to change the subject by bringing sex into the equation?" she stated dejectedly.

Draco's brow quirked and he looked at her with a hopeful expression. "Are you saying that sex is _in_ the equation, Granger?" he asked, a sly grin spreading on his handsome face.

Hermione stiffened slightly and she looked truly alarmed. Apparently, her little plan had blown up right in her face. She fidgeted nervously and leaned back a bit, mirroring Draco's own actions quite well.

"N-no…I meant, um…stop that!!" she stammered as Draco leaned toward her with a predatory expression on his face. She was blushing madly now, and he chortled merrily at her flustered expression. Ah, he did have a way with women…

"Stop what Granger?" he said and leaned back against the couch again. He smiled at the internal battle raging behind her eyes. She appeared calm but Draco knew she was anything but. If he was going to feel uncomfortable, by Merlin, so was she.

"You know what," she whispered and looked down at her lap. Her cheeks were still tinted a becoming scarlet and Draco felt a swooping sensation in his stomach. She really had managed to grip his attention effectively. It was seriously unnerving.

"No, I don't think I do," he said wickedly, "perhaps you could _explain_ it to me."

The wicked smirk on his face was nothing compared to the onslaught of naughty thoughts coursing through his head. He really was quite perturbed that he had neglected to volunteer to tell Wood that he would be taking the day off- those riding chaps would make an excellent prop right about now.

"Malfoy," she pleaded, it was obvious that Hermione was a bit uncomfortable, "don't make me angry."

"Are you angry, Hermione?" he replied smoothly, "I hadn't noticed that. I thought you were embarrassed."

Hermione looked up at him and scowled. "What would you know about my feelings anyway? It's not like you've ever made an effort to get to know me," she retorted petulantly.

"Ah, but I already know everything there is to know about you," he stated silkily and sipped his wine.

"So I'm that transparent, am I Malfoy?" she shot back.

He looked at her with considerable interest. She was picking a fight with him. Why was she picking a fight? Everything had been fine up until his comment regarding her feelings.

"Granger, I refuse to get into a petty argument with you," he stated and waved his hand glibly, "this is my day off."

"A day off you wouldn't have if it weren't for me," she retorted tersely, "and the subject of _my_ feelings is not _petty_."

She was livid now, he had managed to stick his foot so far down his throat that he could practically taste the shoe leather. He looked at her and creased his brows. She was certainly annoyed, her chest was heaving and she gripped a throw pillow so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. It was quite obvious that Draco had the same affect on Hermione Granger that she had on him.

"I didn't say that," he stated defensively.

"You implied it, that's enough for me," she spat and looked away.

"Granger…I- look, I'm really, um, sorry, you know…for everything. I just, I don't know how to converse well with others," he said sheepishly.

"No shite," she said softly and Draco snorted.

He had rarely heard Hermione swear and her emphasis on such an expletive sounded all wrong. The worst he had ever heard her say was "Merlin's Beard", and even that was a stretch as her sweet voice defeated the meaning behind it.

She looked at him tentatively. "And what, pray tell, is so funny?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"The Golden Gryffindor swearing, quite laughable," he replied with a playful grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not as laughable as you in a dress," she said, a smug smile spreading over her pretty face.

Draco's eyes narrowed and he threw a throw pillow at her head. It hit her squarely in the temple and she looked absolutely taken aback for a moment. Her shock quickly turned to a vindictive smirk and she grabbed the pillow and slammed it into the side of his face. Draco saw stars and heard an eruption of soft giggles as she brought the pillow back again and then slammed it over his head. As she brought it back once more, he finally decided to dodge out of the way, using his seeker reflexes to miss the 'pillow-like bludgeor' aimed at his face. Grabbing her wrist, he effectively forced her to drop the pillow and she fell back, bringing Draco with her, and the two of them chuckled at the sudden lightheartedness in such a volatile discussion.

Hermione was too busy giggling to notice that Draco had stopped laughing. He was watching her, the way her face lit up when she laughed. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her cheeks were tinged a pretty pink. He felt the urge to lean down and kiss her, to feel her soft lips reacting to his rough touch. As he leaned in closer, watching her amusement, he felt a jolt of liquid guilt shoot through him. The regret he had felt the day of his trial reared its annoying, little head and he cringed in response. He had missed out on this, on being friends with such a wonderful person. He knew he had been an arse but the magnitude of his absolute cruelty was abruptly staring him in the face. This day was getting worse and worse. Even a playful moment between the two of them had turned him upside down.

_What is my bloody problem? She's here, I'm here, the couch is here…the stage is set!_

"Maybe you want more than just a senseless shag."

Damn that blasted voice.

_I…alright, I do like her, okay…it's just, it's too difficult to try and figure out a way to make things work with her…a shag is the best bet for both of us!_

"Ah, I see, so in essence you mean that you're too much of a pansy to actually _try_ to make something work with her," it said harshly.

_I am not a pansy! You had better watch it, I wasn't kidding about the lobotomy!_

"Quit trying to frighten me into submission, you prat! I'm all you've got and I'm telling you right now, if you don't give it a go with the most amazing witch you've ever met, you'll regret it!" the voice replied angrily.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice filtered into his internal battle with the annoyingly logical side of his brain and he looked down at her in surprise.

She was staring at him in a way he had never seen before. Her dark eyes were like liquid chocolate, smoldering beneath her thick, black lashes. Her face was no longer tinged pink from laughter rather the depth of the rose in her cheeks had increased threefold and she gazed into his mercuric orbs, an odd expression on her beautiful visage. Her lips were ripe for the taking, slightly damp and she bit down lightly on her lower lip as she stared up at him anxiously. His chest was pressed lightly against hers, and he felt the repetitive whir of her pulse. It had sped up slightly and her breaths were also coming a bit more rapidly as his eyes raked over her face languidly.

It was a swift, unexpected movement on her part, almost as if nothing had happened at all. Her hands had made there way into his hair, the softness of her skin playing against his silky locks with featherlike precision. Her lips had brushed against his softly and that same pulse had sparked, sending electrified synapses straight to his core. Her lingering lips combined with the intensity of the electric reaction hurtled him into space and he responded hungrily, his lips devouring hers with such ardor that she whimpered against his greedy mouth as it pillaged hers mercilessly. All of the feelings he had experienced over the last month were poured into this kiss- his denial, his pent up frustration, his anger, his sorrow, his irritation, and finally his complete passion were translated through this extreme connection.

It took Draco less than a second to realize that he was, without a doubt, completely smitten.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine- Facing the Gamut

Draco's mouth was moving against Hermione's with brutal force. An arduous need had taken hold of him and he kissed her without regret, his hands winding in her curls and his body molding to hers tightly. The past month had obviously had quite an effect on him and he continued to pour his frustrations into their extremely gratifying snog. The fact that Hermione had initiated the kiss had only spurred him on. Usually, he was the one to instigate and Hermione's strong drive and bold initiative drove him mad with lust. His attraction to the woman beneath him was clearly evident and he couldn't help smiling against her lips as her hands snaked up against his chest.

He barely registered the fact that Hermione was pushing lightly against him. His head was swimming from the heated sensation coursing through his body. Only when she stopped reacting completely did he seem to realize that her hands were placed firmly on his chest and pressing with light, but agile determination. He quickly pulled away and sat up, looking away from her in an attempt to hide his anxiety at the possible result of his reckless advances. He hoped he hadn't blown it with this one, she was entirely different than any other girl he had ever dated and he hoped that his thoughtlessness might go unpunished. But who was he kidding? This was Hermione Granger, a girl who had never, _ever_ shied away from punishing him.

_Great, I'm really in for it now…although if leather and whips are involved it might not be _so_ bad…_

Draco fought the sly grin threatening to take up residence on his visage.

Hermione, meanwhile, was gazing at him intently, she had her hand to her lips and her eyes were wide with confusion. Draco felt a little uneasy, unable to bring himself to speak first. He knew that Hermione had been the one to instigate their snog but he had really gone above and beyond the limitations of a normal first kiss. Apparently, he had translated the extent of his confusing feelings quite well and, apparently, it had scared the shite out of the normally composed Gryffindor.

After a few moments, Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, that was…_interesting_," she said feebly.

Draco looked up at her and noticed that her cheeks were flushed, enhancing the look of her soft complexion and effectively making her that much more attractive.

"Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Guess I got a little carried away," he mumbled glumly.

"A _little_?" Hermione replied, quirking her brow with intrigue.

"All right, a lot," he stated dejectedly and scooped up his wine glass from the coffee table. He quickly took a swig of the wine, immediately regretting the action as it washed Hermione's sweet taste from his mouth. He sighed irritably and glanced at her quickly.

"Why did you-"

"Look Granger, what do you want me to say?? I'm sorry, _again_," he interrupted sulkily and crossed his arms.

Hermione frowned at him and shook her head. "Merlin, you're a mess," she stated matter-of-factly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked tetchily, "I'm a mess? Is that supposed to be an insult, or is it merely an observation?"

Hermione raised a brow, a smug expression taking over her lovely face. "So, it appears that the great insuperable Malfoy is actually a tad more vulnerable than we all thought," she stated with an annoying amount of gratification.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I really have no idea what you're on about, Granger," he shot back, "but, please, enlighten me. What is this ridiculous theory your abnormally large, not to mention irritating, brain has concocted?"

Hermione laughed then, her pretty face contorting with amusement. Draco did not find the situation at all amusing and he scowled at her contemptuously.

"Wow, you really have a handle on it, don't you Draco?" she said nonchalantly, "the whole hiding your feelings bit."

_Great Merlin's Bloody Ghost! Am I really about to sit here and listen to some ridiculous profile the Great Gryffindor Psychiatrist has thought up?? Perhaps I should lie down on the couch for her assessment…hopefully I won't snore…_

Draco's scowl twisted into a deadly sneer but Hermione merely waved off his attempts to intimidate her. "I'm sorry, but after that snog, all bets are off," she said warily, "you told me everything there is to know. Did you honestly think that after a kiss like that, I wouldn't be on to the fact that you're actually _human_?? Not to mention everything leading up to it…"

_What did I say…Hemlock _effing_ Bones…bloody woman's got the instincts of a blasted Auror… _

Draco was annoyed. So the Gryffindor Princess thought she was on to him, did she? She was under the impression that Draco's multi-faceted personality had been completely revealed. Suddenly, he felt entirely bitter. He wasn't as simple as she thought, there were many sides to the man who sat beside her, that had been proven during the war on several occasions, though that was a discussion for another time.

Besides, she had yet to even catch a glimpse of his sultry side. Yes, the kiss had been passionate but Hermione Granger had no clue what she was getting herself into. He could show her just how multi-faceted he could be.

"And, what exactly led up to our snog that has you so in tune to the nature of my personality?" he asked smoothly. He threw a seductive look her way and she immediately narrowed her eyes.

"I see my idea regarding your need to effectively re-focus the conversation with your sexual prowess was correct," she stated tersely, "tell me Draco, how difficult _is it_ for you to discuss how you feel?"

Her tone was icy, cold and rough. Her eyes, still narrowed, pierced through him like shards of broken glass and she unconsciously bit her lip, possibly in an attempt to dam the flood of angry words looking to spill over with malicious intent.

Draco snorted at her and she glared in response. "What is it that I supposedly feel, Granger?" he asked in a bored tone. He examined his nails and sipped his wine, hoping to goad her away from the current topic. He was in no mood to be analyzed by the same feisty know-it-all who had effectively driven him mad for most of his life. This wasn't a therapy session and he certainly hadn't signed up for this shite. Draco's mood had quickly turned from sultry to sour.

Hermione raised a brow sardonically. "All I know is that you have done nothing but dodge my inquiries about how you're doing, you've made it a point to scoot away from me when I was trying to get you to talk, _and, _that kiss…"

"Which _you_ instigated, need I remind you?" Draco interjected irritably.

Hermione sighed with frustration. "Are you going to continue to interrupt me or can I get through this?" she asked in aggravation.

"I don't know, are you going to continue berating me with your ridiculous analysis of my innermost thoughts and feelings? If I had known this was going to be bloody self-help hour I would've stayed at the blasted club!" he said bitterly.

"Look Malfoy, I get that you're Mr. Reserved but perhaps you'd be a little happier if you'd cut the crap and let me finish…regardless of whether or not I did initiate that bloody kiss you, my friend, took control rather quickly. And it wasn't some sweet little innocent gesture- it was raw and it was powerful and boy did it tip me off to some of your finer skills," she said, a hazy look on her face.

Draco grinned at her impishly and Hermione's cheeks brightened in a pretty blush.

"But that's beside the point," she continued, shaking her head.

"Then what is the point, Granger?"

"The point is, you've been cooped up in this club with no one to talk to but me and a bunch of queens who have no idea who you really are, with the exception of Scarlet of course, and not once have you mentioned anything at all about what's gone on in your life. Your like a piece of blank parchment…you've failed to include anyone in anything and I think that it'd do you some good to get your problems off your chest…before we try and figure out what the hell is going on between us," she stated firmly and pointed between the two of them.

_Bugger me! Is she serious??_

Hermione was staring at him expectantly. She _was _serious. She really expected him to start telling her his problems! Draco was at a complete loss for words…he had had no idea that she was bringing him to her flat to coax him into spilling his guts and he suddenly felt extremely perturbed with the whole situation. There was no way in Merlin's holy hell that he was about to sit around with a big box of tissue and a pint of ice cream discussing his feelings like a bunch of overly sentimental Hufflepuffs.

_NO WAY…_

"Maybe it'd do you some good to talk to her," the voice chimed in and Draco immediately began to mentally strangle himself.

_Shut it…nobody asked you anyway…_

"Like that has ever stopped me before," the voice said smugly.

_I am deadly serious…if you don' shut your effing-_

"If you don't shut your effing hole then I'm going to get a lobotomy," the voice mocked him ruthlessly, "with your luck your ridiculously sarcastic, not to mention stubborn, side would end up getting the cut and then _I _could take over completely."

Draco paled at the thought of such an atrocity. He didn't argue with the blasted voice again.

"Um, Draco? Were you planning to answer me in this century?" Hermione asked and he glanced up at her with an irritated expression.

"Hate to break it to you Granger, but I'm not exactly down with having a little feelings fest…you're just going to have to deal with me the way that I am…that means no sitting around with a big box of tissues and crying about my problems," he stated haughtily.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wasn't expecting that…this is Draco Malfoy I'm talking to," she replied sarcastically, "although Myrtle might disagree with me."

Draco's head snapped up quickly and he growled under his breath. "That was below the belt," he said through gritted teeth.

Hermione smiled serenely, a dangerously close imitation of Loony Lovegood taking over her face. "Yes, well, I figured you deserve everything that I give you. You may have apologized but I feel that I should get a few good quips in every now and then," she stated casually.

Draco smirked at her off handed remark. "You do, do you?" he shot back innocently, "then you shouldn't be surprised when I retaliate."

Hermione's smiled never faded as she sipped her wine. "Of course not Draco, I know you'd never be able to control that tongue of yours," she said and then immediately grimaced as the double meaning in her words sunk in.

"Is that a challenge?" Draco retorted wickedly.

Hermione crossed her arms and quirked a brow. "Here we go again," she said and shook her head, "I suppose since you literally refuse to give me even a simple answer to my previous theories, I can't expect you to explain that kiss you planted on me."

Draco looked down at his lap. "It was…unexpected," he said sheepishly.

"Yes, but nice all the same," she replied, "was it a heated response to your current situation or…do you…um," she trailed off and looked away.

"Do I what, Granger?" he asked, suddenly intrigued by her modesty. This coy side of Hermione Granger had always given him the upper hand and now was no different. Seizing the opportunity was the natural reaction and he took hold without even thinking.

She was quiet, obviously anxious about answering the question. "Do I feel something for you? Is that what you wanted to know?" he continued, "I assume that your Gryffindor courage has been compromised due to your lack of experience so I'll answer the-"

Hermione gasped loudly and set her jaw firmly, abruptly interrupting Draco's well thought out speech. Apparently, his comments regarding her inexperience had spurred something inside the fiercely driven woman and she had taken the opportunity to resume their heated snog. He wasn't disappointed.

She grasped his sweater and pulled him towards her. "Lack of experience? Just because I'm not Slytherin's most slaggy male doesn't mean that I'm a total prude!" she said smoothly, "besides, kissing is fair game. So just shut up and do it, _Illustra_."

Draco complied with her command without complaint. Perhaps the Gryffindor Princess did not need explanations after all. Besides, the snogging was excellent and Draco smirked against her lips as her hands gripped his hair and she pulled him in closer.

* * *

A few hours later, they had apparated back to the club. They glanced at each other quickly and smiled. It was obvious that Hermione was slightly unnerved by their new situation.

"Look, Malfoy, I think it best that we keep things platonic in the presence of the other employees," she stated in a businesslike manner.

Draco rolled his eyes and smirked at her arrogantly. "Granger, you can't be serious…do you actually believe that I'd start acting all lovey-dovey in front of the knob jockies? Not to mention the fact that it'd look pretty odd if a bloody queen is trying to tap off a bird," Draco said merrily and shook his head.

Hermione blushed madly. "Merlin, Draco, is it possible for you to be any less tactless?" she said with a giggle.

He smiled at her wickedly. "You love it," he said impishly and bumped her with his hip.

He assumed it looked quite amusing since he was once again clad in his tight black dress. What was even more hilarious was the fact that Hermione stood there staring at him in admiration. Her eyes lingered over his face and then down his neck and he snorted at her.

"Enjoying the view, Granger?" he asked and she looked away quickly, "I don't blame you, a dress and long hair can't hide perfection."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable! How the hell I fell for an arrogant prat, I'll never know…" she mumbled irritably.

"Fell for me did you?" he replied with a triumphant smirk.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Oh I think it's quite obvious who fell first," she quipped playfully.

"Is it?" he said and bumped her with his hip again.

She sniggered and then punched him in the arm. He smirked at her as she brought her fingers to her mouth and brushed them gently across her lips. She reached out with the same hand and placed it on his jaw. He instinctively closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her soft fingers as they traced his jaw lightly. They lingered there for a moment but then she quickly ripped her hand away and gasped lightly.

"Uh, hello Belladonna," she said quietly and Draco spun around to face the smug looking queen standing just behind him.

"Hermione," the vengeful tart replied with considerable mocking, "what _are_ you two doing?"

"Not that it's any of our business," Draco's pitched voice replied callously, "but we've just returned from a little mini-break."

"Ah, and do mini-breaks include such an _affectionate_ send off?" she replied maliciously.

Hermione inhaled sharply and clenched her fists. "I don't believe that we were doing anything inappropriate, Belladonna," she stated waspishly.

Belladonna quirked a brow at Hermione and smiled grimly. "I am inclined to disagree, dear," she stated nastily.

"Actually," Draco interceded, "as I recall, _you_ are the one who does inappropriate things around here."

Belladonna scowled at him with ferocity. Her breathing had increased and an utterly strange growl emanated from the back of her throat.

"So if I were you, I'd keep that in mind before you make accusations that are _clearly_ unfounded," Draco added icily.

Belladonna sighed loudly and stamped her foot. "Whatever you say, Illustra," she gritted out angrily. She spun on her extremely high heel and stormed away.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked curiously.

Draco smiled as he watched the defeated wench whip around the corner. "Nothing," he replied reassuringly, "nothing at all."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten- A Spot of Tea

The following morning Draco awoke fairly late. He had slept better than he had in a long time and he felt completely rested and quite content. He supposed part of it could be related to the fantastic snog he and Granger had shared but he wasn't exactly ready to admit that the Golden Gryffindor had that much of an affect on him. She did, he confessed, have a particular affect on certain _parts _of him…whether any of those parts could connect back to strong emotion, he wasn't quite sure yet. Nevertheless, the girl had certainly sparked his interest and he had every intention of pursuing her even after this ridiculous charade was finally over.

_I'll be sure to nick those chaps before I leave, of course…_Draco rolled over and stretched his arms up over his head, a smug smile settling on his lips. He sat up and nearly fell out of bed when he caught site of the Boy Wonder seated in the leather armchair adjacent to his fireplace.

"Potter! What the hell are you doing?" he asked petulantly, "you could at least let a bloke get out of bed before flooing in to his quarters unannounced, you git!!"

"Well, if I did that then it wouldn't be unannounced, now would it?" he replied with a calculative expression, "besides, there are things you and I need to discuss and waiting until _you_ decided to get up out of bed would have meant wasting the day away."

Draco snorted irritably. "Are you implying that I'm lazy, Potter?" he retorted with aggravation.

"You said it, not me," Harry replied smugly and twirled his wand in his fingers.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Sod off, Potter," he replied tetchily and threw his sheets off of him. He ran a hand through his hair and yawned, annoyed that the scarred little nitwit had invaded his turf.

Harry chortled quietly. "I also felt a little holiday from your normal dress code was in order…if I had to look at you in one more bloody evening gown I was seriously going to retch," he stated amusedly.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "As I recall, Wonder Boy, _you _were the one who thought up this brilliant idea, not me," Draco spat tersely, "so keep any comments regarding my attire to yourself."

Harry bit back a laugh and Draco sulked indignantly. Not only had the prick interrupted his morning but he was also making every effort to be an irritating louse. Draco wanted nothing more than to give him the finger. Nevertheless, the louse _was_ protecting him from a band of psychotic Death Eaters, so he held off from flinging any flagrant hand gestures, instead choosing to glare at the Boy-Who-Sucked maliciously. Harry seemed to find the entire situation amusing and Draco's attempts at intimidation had not dampened his mood in the slightest. With a defeated sigh, he hopped out of bed and began stomping around his quarters. Harry surveyed him with an amused expression, his eyes following the blonde as he trudged around the room, searching for his wand.

"Aha!" Draco exclaimed and pulled his wand from underneath a pile of robes. He turned to face Harry who was watching him intently, his brow quirked sardonically.

"Nice place to keep your wand, Malfoy," he said spuriously.

"_Please_, as I recall you and that great red lump you call an Auror were two of the biggest slobs Hogwarts had ever seen, so _can it_," Draco replied eloquently. He flicked his wand smoothly and two cups of tea appeared on the end table next to Harry. With a second smooth gesture, another squashy leather armchair appeared and Draco settled himself across from the gallant git.

"So, what is so important that you had to floo into my room, unannounced, and proceed to sit and watch me sleep like some manic stalker?" Draco asked irritably.

Harry smirked wickedly and sipped his tea with a nonchalance that Draco found absolutely irksome. "You know…you talk in your sleep," he replied with an odd little smile.

Draco narrowed his eyes. Potter was purposely goading him about something. He had a good idea what it was but there was no way in hell that Draco was going to fall for his ridiculous little act. Sometimes Potter could be entirely thick.

"So that's it? You came to regale me with your intimate knowledge of my sleeping habits?" Draco stated quickly, the challenge in his voice apparent.

"Of course not Malfoy, I just find it interesting that you'd whisper the name of someone you supposedly hated for years in your sleep…it's certainly note worthy, don't you think?" Harry asked, the coy little smile spreading into quite the self-righteous smirk.

Draco gripped the handle of his teacup so tightly he was surprised that the fragile porcelain had not shattered in his hand. He gritted his teeth and attempted to calm himself. The last thing he needed was for Potter the Great Gryffindor Git to spout off a bunch of gobshite about Draco's slumbered discourse.

Harry surveyed Draco coolly and sipped his tea, the cup effectively hiding his knowing smile. "No searing retort? Well now, that's even _more_ interesting," Harry replied mercilessly.

"What the hell do you want me to say, Potter?" Draco spat petulantly.

"I want you to explain exactly what your intentions are with Hermione, Malfoy. That girl is my sister and if you think for one minute that I'll allow you to sweep in like some paradoxical white knight whose only intention is to shag her then you've got another thing coming," Harry replied plainly. The evenness of his tone was bordered slightly by malevolent sincerity and Draco almost shuddered at the cold reality of Harry's words. Apparently, Harry deemed Hermione as family and Draco knew all too well what dealing with the 'big brother' type was like.

"Look Potter, not that it's any of your business-"

"When it comes to Hermione, it _is_ my business," Harry interrupted quickly.

Draco stared at him for a moment. He was slightly unnerved by Harry's directness and he inhaled deeply, contemplating his next step. He had not planned on having this little chat with Harry, bloody Gryffindors and their heart-to-hearts. He sighed heavily and regarded his former nemesis with practiced insouciance.

"What did you expect, Potter? I'm cooped up in this blasted club with no female company and you expect me not to notice the woman I'm working with?" Draco asked curiously. He decided that directing a question was better than answering one.

"Noticing her is not the issue, Malfoy…it's the way she looks at you that has me worried," he replied firmly, "I'm no fool…it's written all over her face. You'd better tell me what the hell is going on between the two of you or else."

Harry set his teacup down on the end table and fixed Draco with an expectant gaze.

Draco smirked exultantly. So, the little Gryffindor had openly been giving him the eye…not that he was surprised. He had a quality that enthralled witches of every age, a refinement that could be compared to a fine wine, and his insanely good looks were-

"Would you stop your self-righteous montage and get back to the conversation with Wonder Boy!" the annoying little voice that Draco had begun to refer to as the Anti-Merlin protested.

_You're just jealous that I'm so ridiculously good looking and you're just some stupid voice…_

"Yes, that' exactly it…I'm jealous of being inside your pretty, not to mention totally thick, head!" the Anti-Merlin replied haughtily.

_The first step is admitting it…_

"Like you would know anything about a step program you blasted-"

"Er, Draco? Are you feeling alright?" Harry asked concernedly.

"Fine, fine…so, you say the bookworm's been giving me the eye, eh?" he replied with a sly grin, "not that I'm surprised…even Wood's ridiculous charm can't hide the perfection that is Draco Malfoy."

Harry looked at him like he was completely barmy. His mouth was agape and he looked as if he were deliberating between a good laugh or retching profusely.

"How is it possible for you and Lockhart to exist in the same bloody club? Your blasted heads can't possibly fit in the same room…it's utterly ludicrous how conceited you are, Malfoy," Harry replied, flabbergasted, "_and, _I'll have you know that I've happened to notice the way that you look at Hermione, too…supercilious prat…so no trying to play off like she's the only participant."

Draco's smirk never faltered. "Ah yes, participant is a good word," he stated wickedly.

Harry shot him a dirty look and Draco grinned slyly. "What's the matter Potter, brassed because I'm actually getting some and you aren't?" Draco quipped playfully.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You'd better not be _getting_ anything, Ferret!" Harry spat tersely.

Draco chuckled jubilantly. "No worries, Potter…as I'm sure you're aware, our dear Hermione is not one to give in easily," Draco replied smoothly and sipped his tea.

"Hmmmph."

"Oh, come on Potter, is it really _that_ bad?" Draco taunted playfully, "I may have been a git back in school but at least I chose the right side to fight on!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You may have been noble when it came to the war but your tendency to be an absolute arse to the woman in question is what drives my reservations regarding this whole façade," Harry stated derisively, "and you still haven't alluded to what the hell the two of you are doing."

"Well, in all honesty, this whole situation with Granger is kind of new," he replied coyly, "things have just started to…_heat up_."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Define 'heat up', Malfoy," he growled acrimoniously.

Draco sipped his tea casually, bating Harry with his hesitation. "Well, I'm not usually one to kiss and tell," he said wickedly.

"Bollocks!" Harry shot back irritably, "you never shied away from spouting off to every male within earshot about your sexcapades with that slag Parkinson!"

"Damn, I never knew you Gryffindors were even listening…if I had I _definitely_ would have gone into more detail," Draco replied offhandedly.

"Malfoy, if you don't tell me exactly what is going on I will pull you from this club faster than you can say disapparate," Harry stated warningly.

Draco sniggered contentedly. If there was one thing that he enjoyed almost as much as his banter with the Gryffindor Princess, it was definitely rousing the Boy Wonder.

"Salazar's Salty Balls, Potter…bit testy today," he stated amusedly, "in all honesty there really isn't much to tell you. We had a nice day yesterday…spent all of our time at her flat-"

"You what?" Harry interrupted swiftly. He fixed Draco with an unsatisfied expression and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Er…that is, what I meant to say was…"

"You and Hermione left the club together yesterday?? Did anyone see you?" Harry asked concernedly, his irritated demeanor had been replaced by a serious yet steely comportment.

"No, no one saw us leave together…in fact, I believe that Wood is the only person that…oh shite," Draco stated sheepishly.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Uh, one of the queens saw us return late in the evening."

"Which queen?" Harry asked attentively.

"Belladonna Knotgrass," Draco replied hesitantly. His history with Knotgrass was tumultuous at best and Harry had been briefed on their previous encounter.

"Did she speak to you?"

"Yes, actually, she did," Draco replied bitterly, "she was being quite the ravenous wench."

"And, what was said?" Harry inquired forcefully, "Did she seem at all suspicious of the two of you…were you being conspicuous in any way?"

"Er, well, Hermione had her hand on my face and Belladonna seemed to think it was odd and I sort of, uh, threatened her with blackmail in order to keep her quiet…that was about it," Draco replied steadily.

"Cripes, Draco! You could have really blown it!" Harry exploded resentfully, "I did not place you in this club to fraternize with your former enemy! I put you here to protect your daft little arse from getting killed. Is that what you want? Do you want to be murdered? Do you want Hermione to be murdered, because the Death Eaters would be only too happy to take her out right along with you!"

Draco's head snapped up in fury. "I'd like to see them try," he spat recklessly.

Harry glared at him, his eyes steely and intense, but his expression had softened slightly at Draco's reaction. He sighed heavily and sipped his tea, apparently willing himself to calm down.

Draco, however, was not at all well. The thought of Granger being injured or killed unsettled him and he gripped the arms of his chair, desperately attempting to right his capsized equilibrium.

"Look, Malfoy, all I'm saying is that you need to be more aware…I realize that this new _perspective_ to your relationship with my best friend which, by the way, don't think I've forgotten about resuming our little chat about _that _topic. Anyway, I realize that it has probably thrown you for a loop, but regardless, you need to keep in mind that it's not just about you, it's always been about every single man, woman, and queen in this bloody club," Harry explained somberly.

Draco nodded slowly. He had heard every word that Potter had said but he was still trying to wrap his head around his negligence. How could he have been so careless? Openly flirting with the Golden Gryffindor was something so entirely noticeable in a place like this and he couldn't quite comprehend why he hadn't been steadfast in his endeavor. During the war he had never allowed himself to break character…his persona had always been completely impenetrable. He had had every intention of doing the same in this situation, of keeping up appearances, but one sodding day with know-it-all Granger and his plans were shot to hell. He didn't know what it was about the nosy little swot that made him falter…she had always affected him in one way or another. There wasn't a time in school that he could remember keeping his mouth shut around her. If it wasn't bragging about his latest trinket, it was flinging insults at her. It was then that Draco began to realize that perhaps his feelings for Hermione Granger were not so new.

Obviously, he had had feelings _about_ her during school, usually they centered on annoyance, but he had never taken the time to analyze them…to identify where they came from. Part of his duty to protect himself was staging the pretense that he hated muggleborns. It was all part of the _charming_ Death Eater package…join with Voldemort and torture muggles. Clearly a friendship with the most wanted muggleborn of all time would not have gone over well with his compatriots, even if they were, in his good opinion, total lunatics. After the war, and after his trial, he had not had time to allow his thoughts to dwell on her. His year had gone by rather quickly and he hadn't time to think on the past…he was far too busy dealing with his family's assets and caring for his mother, who had begun to succumb to her loneliness after his father's imprisonment.

Lucius Malfoy had been sent to Azkaban on a five year stint, retribution for his obvious lack of acumen in choosing a mentor, but even that was getting off easy. The rest of the captured Death Eaters had gotten life sentences and a few had been kissed. Apparently, Potter had explained more than was absolutely necessary during his testimony, even speaking on Lucius' behalf in order to help the Malfoy name remain untarnished. Draco knew that his own actions aiding the Order and the actions of his mother during the Final Battle had shed light on the Malfoy family's choice…choosing sides when faced with the threat of death was never an easy thing, even when it was done, as in Lucius' case, at the very last moment.

"I see your point, Potter…I'll be sure to keep up appearances from this point forward," Draco stated ruefully.

"Be sure that you do," Harry replied, "it's a matter of life and death, you git."

"Alright already, I got it," Draco stated glibly and rolled his eyes.

"Now, back on topic…_Hermione_," Harry said and cocked his head to the side. He quirked a brow and gazed at Draco as if waiting for him to explode into song and sappily proclaim his love for Gryffindor's Most Brilliant Babe.

"Why in hell are you looking at me like that, Potter? I'm not gonna start spouting poetry if that's what you're expecting," Draco stated disgustedly and wrinkled his nose.

Harry snorted and made a face. "Ugh, I certainly hope not…I could never stand that sentimental crap in primary school," Harry replied with revulsion, "I just want to know what your intentions are, dimwit!"

"My intentions…hmmmm…well, I suppose you could _consider_ them as honorable," Draco stated thoughtfully, "although I have been having these naughty fantasies about this pair of riding chaps in Wood's closet…"

Harry's mouth fell open and he looked as if he might fall over. Draco found this highly amusing and he bit his lip in an attempt to hold back the triumphant laughter threatening to break free.

"Malfoy…I'm leaving," Harry said in astonishment and stood up slowly, "please refrain from mentioning any more of your demented fantasies about Hermione in my presence...oh Merlin, I don't know if I can floo!!"

Harry bent over and breathed in deeply. His face was sallow and he looked quite sick. Draco couldn't stand it, he burst out laughing. Harry's head whipped up quickly and he scowled at the Slytherin ferociously.

"This is not funny, you slimy little prick! That comment was completely unnecessary and now I may have to hang out here until I'm feeling better," Harry stated waspishly.

Draco's laughter ceased immediately. "You are _not_ hanging out in my bloody room all day, Potter!"

"Well perhaps if you didn't feel it necessary to mention such…_disgusting_…things then I wouldn't feel sick, you moron!!" Harry spat harshly.

"Merlin, Potter, for someone who refers to her as your sister, you certainly are being a bit rude…I hardly think that Hermione clad in a pair of chaps and a sparkly brazier is _disgusting_," Draco chided him mercilessly.

Harry held up a hand and shut his eyes. "Great Gobs of Gillyweed!! You didn't mention the blasted bra last time… _ruddy_ _bastard_," Harry mumbled feebly.

"Man up, Potter!" Draco said and pounded Harry hard on the back. The Gryffindor stumbled forward into the firebox and Draco gripped a handful of powder.

"Oi!! Potter, don't toss your biscuits in my fireplace!" Draco muttered and sniggered quietly. He threw the powder down and stated clearly, "12 Grimauld Place, London."

The last thing he saw was an extremely queasy Harry Potter consumed by a flash of, appropriately, green flames.

_Hehe…bloody bastard deserves it! I hope he gives that She-Weasel a nice big, smelly present when he pops into Grimauld Place…courtesy of Draco Malfoy!! _


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Coming Clean

Draco lounged on his bed, his arms folded neatly behind his head, his eyes fixed on a lump of glowing ember in the firebox. He jiggled his foot anxiously as his mind pounded him with admonishing thoughts. A week had gone by since his little meeting with St. Potter and Draco had managed to keep himself together around Hermione fairly well. She seemed to have noticed his considerable aloofness and had followed suit, much to his chagrin. In all honesty, he missed their witty repartee and, although he had decided to tone it down- at least while they were in the public eye- he didn't believe that warranted the ice queen routine. He had pondered a great deal on her cold reaction, either she was completely miffed by his own detached demeanor or the Boy-Who-Meddled had forced one of his little chats on her as well. He hoped the former was not the case however he felt the latter was an improbability. Harry had come to him for a reason, that reason being that scolding Draco meant not having to scold Hermione. This further supported his theory that she was irritated, which pointed to yet another uncomfortable discussion with the Golden Gryffindor explaining his newfound discretion.

_Oh joy… another heart to heart. These blasted Gryffindorks make me want to retch with their blatant need to express their feelings…_

Draco sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling of his hidden quarters. It was bad enough that he was surrounded by bloody queens all day long, now he was expected to act like one too? He'd had more ridiculous tête-à-têtes in the last 48 hours than he'd had in his entire life. Even his childhood had been reasonably devoid of emotional dialogue. His mother had catered to him in his earlier years but had stopped once he had reached an age she deemed acceptable enough for him to understand the responsibilities that accompanied his title. Being the Malfoy heir was not exactly the easiest role to play. Draco could remember the first time she had refrained from sentiment. It was his eighth birthday, his parents had pulled together quite a celebration and his father had gifted him with a brand new broomstick. Draco had persuaded his mum to let him take it to the Quidditch pitch on their estate in order to try it out with his friends. The boys all took turns riding the shiny, new Cleansweep around the pitch, impressed with its speed and agility. After a time, a few of the older boys decided to show off some of their skills, pulling loops and being slightly reckless. One of the more uncoordinated boys decided to try and flip off the broom as he came in for a landing. Unfortunately, his clumsy maneuvering snapped the new broomstick in half and Draco watched in horror as his precious new trinket was destroyed before his very eyes.

He had gone into hysterics, his fury and sorrow streaming down his face as he ran directly to his mother. She immediately stood, grasped his shoulders, and steered him into the house. Sitting him down, she appraised him for a moment, watching as his tears began to dissolve into confusion. It was the first time she had not attempted to appease him and he pulled his brows together in wonderment as her cool expression changed to one of manic intensity.

"My son," she said firmly, "you will not cry about such things. You _are_ a Malfoy and _as_ a Malfoy you will not waste such valuable time on mourning…you will take action to resolve the problem. Do you understand, Draco?"

Needless to say, Draco had been more than astonished by her reaction. He had expected her to scoop him up, to tell him that everything would be fine. He had not anticipated a proud monologue instructing him to ignore the liquid sorrow that bubbled inside of him, to let go of the thrilling sensations that filled him up whenever he succeeded, or to impede giving his heart to anyone other than himself. It was in that one brief, albeit unforgettable, moment that his life was altered drastically and he never failed to act exactly how his mother had instructed from that point forward. He attended Hogwarts with the aristocratically perfect Malfoy mask set firmly in place. It had succeeded in its endeavors, effectually preventing him from normal childhood experiences and thwarting any chance at real friendship. Even now, he wore the mask…he didn't know how to exist without it and, regardless, he rarely had the chance to dwell on such things as sentiment. In his estimation, it was propitious that years of practiced indifference had served him well, especially during the war. Although he had missed out on normality, the mask concealed the myriad of emotions that plagued him. The cold reality of death had not given him any other choice. If he had succumbed to the maudlin cesspool that threatened to drown him every single day, he would surely be rotting in some cold, wooden box instead of lounging in this comfortable bed.

"Knock, Knock, Knock."

Draco sprung forward and gripped his wand tightly. "Who is it," he called roughly.

"It's me," came the soft, female response and he bolted out of the bed excitedly and wrenched open the door.

Hermione stood stock still, her eyes averted from his face and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She fiddled with a small piece of parchment, anxiously folding and unfolding it into different shapes. Draco smirked amusedly at her uneasy posture, apparently she was nervous.

"Granger," he said politely, "come on in."

She nodded slowly, still refusing to meet his gaze and Draco sighed. Apparently, she was over irritation and on to distress. He stepped aside and she shuffled in, her black boots clunking against the hard wooden floor. She looked positively radiant, having just come in from the cold. The effects of the wintry climate had tinged her cheeks a becoming pink and dewy snowflakes dotted her rebellious coif like tiny diamonds. He shut the door behind her and as she turned to address him he pulled her forward and met her with a heated, albeit soft- he didn't want to frighten her _again_- kiss. She was rigid for a moment but eventually relaxed in his arms, gasping as he released her lips and nuzzled his face into her hair.

"Draco! What is _going on_?" she asked exasperatedly.

"What do you mean, Granger? Can't a bloke be happy to see someone?" he replied spuriously.

Hermione leaned back in his embrace and eyed him carefully. "You know very well that is _not_ what I meant," she stated coolly.

Draco continued smirking at her and she huffed in his arms. "You know I really like it when you get all feisty…although you do look a bit like McGonagall when you make this certain face," he replied thoughtfully.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, which was really quite funny considering she was still in Draco's tight embrace. She screwed up her face and looked away, earning yet another chuckle from the Slytherin.

"Yep, _that's_ the face," he said, stifling his laughter, "except now you look like McGonagall when she's smelled something rotten."

Hermione's mouth fell open and she shoved his chest in an effort to break free from his hold. It didn't work.

"Malfoy, let go of me you annoying prat!" she commanded but Draco just pulled her in tighter.

"Not a chance," he replied and quirked a brow at her suggestively.

Hermione blushed and bit her lip. Ah, how he loved when she did that. It was rather cute how her steely comportment was shattered by his overactive libido. It evened the playing field a bit since most of the time he was forced to endure their battles in a bloody dress.

"Seriously Draco, what is going on? The past week you have been a complete git and now you're acting like my bloody boyfriend," she stated frustratingly, "what gives?"

Draco grinned slyly and nuzzled his face in her hair once again. "You know, you really are cute when you're troubled," he said silkily.

"And _you_ have a knack for dodging the question, _Illustra_," she retorted tetchily.

"I've no idea what you mean," he said softly and brushed his lips against her neck.

Hermione inhaled deeply and he was fairly certain that she was biting her lip again. "_Please_ Draco," she whispered beseechingly and he sighed heavily and dropped his arms.

"Alright, alright," he said rolling his eyes, "you know, you Gryffindors spend _far_ too much time talking."

Hermione smiled triumphantly and settled herself in the armchair by the fireplace. Draco quirked a brow, apparently she did not trust him enough to sit on the bed…not that he blamed her. She was looking particularly fetching today and he would have done everything in his power to tempt her. Even now, as he watched her fumble with the same piece of tattered parchment, he was concocting a devious plan to get her to snog.

_Yep…just keep thinking that you'll get out of here without a mark on you, Granger…hehehe…_

"So, what is it that has you all up in arms my flustered little Gryffindor?" he asked mockingly and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Merlin, you're a git," she replied coolly.

"That's it? That's why you interrupted my satisfying salutation? I'm a git?" he replied wickedly. He knew that goading her would get him no where but it was just too much fun toying with her disconcerted state of mind.

"Draco Malfoy! You are making me insane…what is going on with you?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco eyed her with a solemn expression and shook his head. "Well Granger, to be honest, I'm a bit tired of all this," he replied, feigning irritation.

She looked completely taken aback. Her eyes were wide and she began coiling the parchment around her finger, a stoic expression on her pretty face.

"Oh, right…um, maybe I should go then, give you some time to yourself," she replied softly and then stood up from her seat. She was to his door within two strides and Draco had to sprint in order to stop her from escaping.

"Granger!" Draco exclaimed in astonishment, "Where on earth do you think you're going? You've gone completely mental, woman!!"

Hermione glanced up at him quickly and furrowed her brows. "What? I- I don't understand…" she trailed off but then abruptly exploded, "Merlin I hate men! Why are you so bloody complicated all the time?!"

It was Draco's turn to bite his lip to keep from laughing. She was obviously quite exasperated from their week long hiatus and she paced back and forth across his room, muttering petulantly about men and their blasted psyches.

"Granger, for someone so bloody brilliant you can be entirely thick, you know that?" he stated amusedly, "now sit down so I can explain what's going on you nutcase!"

Hermione stopped pacing and looked at him grudgingly. "Fine," she murmured irritably and plopped back down in the squashy leather arm chair. She fixed him with an expectant glare and absently twirled one of her curls around her finger.

Draco fought the sly grin threatening to break over his handsome face. She was just so cute when she was annoyed. Besides the entertaining aspect of his provocation, there were also the surprisingly beautiful consequences. The way her dark eyes sparkled in a mixture of petulance and curiosity, the becoming blush that _always_ marked her cheeks, and the bruise her swollen bottom lip endured after she gnawed on it tetchily- it all made it extremely difficult not to grab her right there and then and snog her senseless. In fact, he was having difficulty deciding whether to ignore the enticing call of his libido or to listen to the Anti-Merlin, who was currently battling the savagely sultry beast unabashedly.

_Come on Draco…just look at her…she's ripe for the picking…_

"Damn it, Draco! Don't listen to that bestial bastard!! You need to be a gentleman!!" the Anti-Merlin protested heatedly.

_Nah, come on mate…just look at that tight little package, and look how hot she is when she's angry…_

"Shut up you classless cad!! Don't listen to him Draco…Hermione will kick your arse if you try anything close to what he's thinking…believe- mmmmmmm-"

_Ahhhh, peace at last! I went ahead and took care of that nitwit…he certainly is an outspoken little prick…now, on you go mate…_

"Er, Draco? Are you feeling alright? You look a bit…_confused_," Hermione said tentatively. She eyed him cautiously and gripped the arms of her chair.

Draco shook his head quickly, willing the images of Angel Draco and Devil Draco (quite a likeness if he did say so himself) to fade away.

"Good boy, Draco," the Anti-Merlin stated proudly.

_Pussy…_the savage beast muttered and gave him the finger. That devil really was spot on.

He cleared his throat and gazed at Hermione. "So I expect you're wondering why I've been so…distant…lately," he said casually.

Hermione raised a brow and cocked her head to one side. "You could say that," she replied softly.

"Well, ever since that evening with Belladonna, I thought it'd be better if we laid low a bit…you know, refrained from open banter or anything that could be construed as 'flirting'. It's been hard enough sneaking in and out of this office without being noticed by those bloody wenches, adding the stress of that ravenous hag watching the two of us like a hawk has had me concerned. The last thing we need is for me to be discovered," he sated brusquely, "so I thought it best to be as inconspicuous as possible."

Hermione's face showed considerable relief and she flashed him a sweet little smile. "Why didn't you just tell me??" she asked.

"Well, I was a little afraid to approach the ice queen," he replied with a wink.

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes. "You think _that_ was bad?? Apparently, you don't remember my issues with Ron in sixth year," she replied playfully, "you're lucky I didn't set my canaries on you."

Draco grinned slyly. "I suppose that since you've refrained from mauling me with birds that I'm still on your good side then?" he asked tentatively.

Hermione eyed him intently, an extremely close imitation of his trademark smirk playing on her lips. "I suppose," she said casually.

Draco grinned smugly and Hermione rolled her eyes. He leaned forward and patted the bed next to him. "Why don't you come over here, Granger?"

Hermione pursed her lips, clearly she was deliberating. "I don't know Malfoy…" she trailed off.

Draco gripped his wand, pulling the swish and flick perfectly. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he said and Hermione rose up out of her chair.

"Draco Malfoy, put me down this instant!!" she shrieked.

Draco chuckled as he began to guide Hermione towards the bed.

"Damn it, Draco, I mean it!! PUT ME DOWN!!" she shouted angrily.

'Knock, knock, knock."

"Is everything alright in there?" Wood's pitched, Scottish brogue sounded through the door and Draco stifled a laugh as Hermione fell on the bed with a great thud.

"You senseless prat!! I can't believe you just did that!!" she shouted angrily and Wood immediately flung open the door, her wand drawn and her eyes narrowed menacingly.

"What is going on here?!" she demanded, eyeing a furious Hermione, attempting to gather herself off of the bed, and a hysterical Draco, clutching his stomach and cackling like a hyena.

Hermione punched Draco squarely on the arm and stomped her foot. "Git!" she growled and then turned to face Scarlet Wood with a sheepish expression.

"Er, hi Scarlet, I was just, uh, here to advise Draco about the new schedule and, uh…" Hermione trailed off awkwardly and held up the deformed piece of parchment in her hand.

Scarlet looked at Hermione closely. She took in her blushing cheeks, her uncomfortable expression, and the way she fidgeted nervously. Her eyes flitted to Draco and then back to Hermione. A slow, calculative smirk spread on her face and she began to absently twirl her wand in her fingers. Draco smirked back and Hermione blushed madly, inadvertently confirming the wily wench's suspicions.

"That's good Hermione," Wood replied, feigning nonchalance, "make sure to inform him about the Christmas show…you two will have a lot of extra work coming up to prepare for that one."

"Yes Scarlet," Hermione replied excitedly, "I have quite a bit planned for the two of us to tackle."

"I'm sure you do," Wood replied wickedly, "well, I'm off…you two stay out of _trouble_."

She winked at them and turned around- sashaying towards the door in such an elegant manner that Draco was sure Delish would have fumed in envy. As she slipped through the hidden entrance, she paused momentarily, throwing a sly glance over her shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy, please try to remember the contraceptive charm. The last thing we need is a bunch of smirking little know-it-alls running rampantly around London."

She disappeared into her office in a flurry of silk and Draco snorted as the door shut firmly behind her. Hermione, meanwhile, was standing there in complete shock. Her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide as galleons.

"I…you…the bed…" she stammered incoherently.

"Er, you alright there, Granger?" Draco asked concernedly.

"Merlin, please tell me that did not just happen!" she cried in embarrassment and covered her face with her hands.

"Oh, it _did_," Draco replied impishly and waggled his brows, "now…about that Contraceptive Charm…"

Hermione's head snapped up and she pointed a finger at him menacingly. "See here Malfoy, there will be no…wait, what are you doing?? Put down that wand this instant!!" she cried adamantly.

Draco smirked at her wickedly. "Accio Granger!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12- The Christmas Bizarre: Part One

Draco had quickly discovered that Hermione had not been bluffing when she told Scarlet Wood that they had plenty to do in order to prepare for the coming holiday season. It was still early but she had already begun to fret over her ridiculously detailed decoration plans. The club was getting an entire make over, and she had gone completely overboard- even going so far as to create scaled, architectural drawings, for Merlin's sake. The woman was bloody mental. Draco, who was overly irritated with the entire charade, merely rolled his eyes whenever she launched into one of her endless tirades regarding tinsel or mistletoe. What the girl needed was a good, healthy snog, and he was more than willing to offer his services, but ever since the little debacle in front of Wood, she had been a bit testy, not to mention completely standoffish. This only heightened Draco's irritation and he spent the majority of his time in her presence sulking.

The Gryffindor's reticence was not the only thing that had him miffed. Wood had called him into her office a few days after he had seen Hermione's _groundbreaking_ plans and told him that he would also be required to wear a new uniform during the holiday season.

"It's my own original creation," she stated excitedly and pulled a cord, lifting a drape in the process, "TA-DA!!"

Draco's mouth fell open and he froze in shock. Wood had revealed the most ridiculous outfit he had ever seen. It was a short, emerald dress made of shiny satin, but the dress itself was not the problem. It was the enormous, white, muff-like fur collar that tied over the sweetheart neckline that had him frozen in a state of perpetual rigor mortis. The collar was tied together with a silver colored chord that boasted a pair of matching, gaudy fur balls on each end. The dress was corset like, so Draco could only imagine how tightly it would cling to his body, and it had a handkerchief hemline.

"Are you insane?" Draco exploded petulantly, "you honestly expect me to wear _that_?? This is unbelievable…I swear that you Gryffindors are doing this for your own amusement!!"

"Draco, darling, Hermione will also be wearing this little number," Wood interjected reassuringly.

"I don't care!! She's a bloody woman!!" Draco muttered irritably, "I'll look like a blasted elf, for Merlin's sake!"

Scarlet patted him on the shoulder and smiled. "Listen, I understand how irritated you must be with this whole situation, but please, _indulge_ me," she replied sweetly.

Draco growled dejectedly and ripped the outfit from its hanger. He stomped into his private quarters and slammed the door. It was one thing that he had to don the same ridiculous get up night after night but this new outfit was beyond ludicrous.

_Prissy, paisley wearing, pillow biting, puke inducing…errr, damn it!! This collar is so stupid!!_

Draco looked at himself in the mirror and cringed. He looked like one of Satan's little helpers!! All that was missing was the fat, jolly old fool and his arthritic, cookie baking wife!! Blasted muggles and their stupid myths!! He never thought he'd see the day when any part of his life could be affected by anything a muggle said or did. Leave it to Potter and his pack of eight, tiny Aurors to put an end to that assumption.

'Knock, Knock, Knock. '

_Salazar's Steaming Gobshite, what now?!!_

Scarlet Wood opened the door a crack. "Er, Draco, I forgot to give you your accessories," she stated amusedly. Draco didn't like that her tone was laced with mirth and he threw open the door and pinned the queen with a malevolent glare. She smiled serenely and held up shoes and tights.

Draco's face went completely white. "You're kidding…I know you're kidding," he said frantically, "no…no way!! I refuse…I won't even go down there!!"

Scarlet narrowed her eyes and set her jaw firmly. "Oh _yes_, you will," she growled, "If you would like to remain hidden in this club, you will represent The Pink Thestral respectively."

Draco was in total shock, either that or complete denial. He wasn't quite sure which reaction better fit the situation. The shoes Wood held up in her calloused hand weren't all that terrible- they were black, with a chunky heel and a strap that buckled over the top of your foot. There were pairs of jingling bells that connected to the straps, but other than that, they were fairly decent. It was the _tights_…the horrific, namby-pamby pair of tights displayed in Wood's other hand that had Draco practically convulsing. They were absurdly prominent, red and white stripes scissoring up and down the legs blatantly. He was convinced that this preposterous pair of tights would successfully aid him in imitating a peppermint wand.

Draco stared at Wood, incredulity written all over his face. He could not will himself to reach up and take the items, to him it was like an admission, a horrible confession that he approved of the hideous accessories. Wood rolled her eyes and threw them on the bed.

"I expect you fully dressed and down at the bar in twenty minutes," she stated firmly, "really Draco, it's not _that_ bad…you look someone just ran over your pet Puffskin."

Draco sneered and shook his head. "Whatever Wood, I'll be down in twenty," he replied impassively. He ignored her probing statement, he was honestly in no mood to chat with another bloody Gryffindor…he'd had quite enough of their emotional outbursts and attempting a serious conversation with a gender confused jock was not exactly his idea of therapeutic.

Wood nodded in acquiesce and glided back into her office. Draco shut the door and continued to get dressed. He ground his teeth as he surveyed his reflection. It was official- he had been transported straight to sappy, holiday hell. Satan's magical workshop could wait, for the Dark Angel, Santa, already had dibs on his poor, tortured soul. He flicked his wand, conjuring a vanity, and sat down with a huff. Pulling his wand in a circular motion around his head, he drew his long, luxurious locks into an elegant French twist. He had gotten quite good at grooming himself as a woman. He had to hand it to these bloody queens- it took a great deal of time and effort to look this good, _not_ that he had to work all that hard at it in the first place. However, he found himself sympathizing with Granger as of late, he could only assume how long it took to tame that riotous mane of hers. Women definitely had it harder than he had always thought.

After putting the finishing touches on his make-up, he stood, grabbed his wand, and strode toward the hidden entryway to his private quarters. Flicking his wand, he cast a charm on the door, effectively forging a two-way mirror that looked into Wood's office. Noting that it was safe to emerge, he opened his door and slipped into the office.

Making his way into the club, he stopped short. His mouth, once again, fell open and he stared at the formerly pink, purple, and lime green club in absolute shock. It had been transformed into a literal winter wonderland. The marble floor was pure white, rippling with icy, silver veins and hints of glittering quartz. Draco was almost afraid to walk on it, its frozen appearance played tricks on him and he imagined that gliding on a floor like this would be a lot easier then normal. He wondered if all of this had been Hermione's doing and the effortless beauty that surrounded him confirmed that the answer was yes. He shook his head and moved toward the bar, but halted abruptly as he took in the most stellar sight of all.

The sunken stage area was nothing less than spectacular. The ceiling overhead had been enchanted, and Draco gazed up at a wintry night sky- the stars twinkled at him and winked coquettishly. An onslaught of perfectly formed snowflakes swirled and fell in their own private routines, a frosty ballet danced perfectly high overhead. Draco stared in awe, watching intently as one snowflake pirouetted around another. It was breathtaking, and his eyes followed as each flake performed as diligently as any member of the Royal Ballet.

Suddenly, something glinted, distracting him from the beautiful dance and he glanced at the large chandelier that hung overhead. In all his years, he had never seen such magnificence- even at Malfoy Manor. The chandelier descended from the glassy ceiling like a large, crystalline icicle, dozens of icy juleps dripped from its broad body and cast prisms in every direction. A multitude of heavenly rainbows glinted off the silver tabletops and Draco stood in awe as the entire room came alive. The glorious juleps danced rhythmically to their own carols, splashing the room with its own palette of prime. Standing beneath this massive fixture was a privilege, and Draco looked up at it in total admiration. The effects of the wintry sky and the snowflake ballet only enhanced the gloriousness of this piece, and it proudly protruded from its glassy abode with sheer superciliousness, something Draco identified with very well.

"Illustra!!" Hermione's sweet voice called and he turned to face her, still a bit dazed from the new changes.

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes lingering on his ridiculous outfit, and a slow, calculated smile spread over her pretty face. He narrowed his eyes and stormed over to her, his anger entirely evident as he sashayed his hips resentfully, and totally overdid the Felish's effeminate 'glide' for Hermione's benefit. She, too, was clad in an identical outfit but he could only imagine the kick she was getting out of seeing him look like one of Satan's merry elves.

"And what, may I ask, is so bloody funny?" he spat bitterly.

Hermione bit her lip and quirked a brow. "Nothing at all, Illustra," she replied, stifling a giggle, "you look very…_festive_."

Draco growled and she sniggered. "This is _not_ funny Granger. I look like Satan's little helper!! All I need is a bloody carving tool and I could widdle you a blasted train set!!" he replied petulantly.

Hermione erupted into hysterics. Apparently Draco had said something funny. He was in no mood to find out what it was. Probably some stupid muggle slip again, what did he care? He wasn't a blasted muggle, he was a perfect, Pureblooded wizard with a greater sense of propriety than any muggle could possibly hope for!

"Well, perhaps you should start caring since Hermione _is_ a muggleborn witch," the Anti-Merlin stated chidingly.

_Could you possibly do me a favor?_

"Why, I'd be delighted!!" the Anti-Merlin replied.

_Great…SHUT THE HELL UP!!_

"Oho, still sore that she's not too happy with your little stunt the other day??" the Anti-Merlin replied smugly, "I told you that she's no trollop, but what do _you_ do?? You levitate her to your bed and then proceed to embarrass the poor woman in front of her boss!!"

_I was there, you nitwit!! I'm perfectly able to recall what happened without you butting your nosy arse into the situation!!_

"I'm just trying to point out what you could work on, young man!! You'd better be grateful for my advice in the future because I may not pipe up anymore if this is all the thanks I'll get!!" the Anti-Merlin stated savagely.

_You mean you'd actually can it for once?? Thank Merlin!! Um, I'd like to take that option, please…_

"HA! You wish!!" the Anti-Merlin replied bitingly and stuck out his tongue.

"Er, Illustra…you're doing that weird _dazed_ thing, again," Hermione said and furrowed her brows.

"Huh? Oh, sorry…"

Hermione giggled again. "And just to let you know, it's 'Santa', not Satan," she stated amusedly.

Draco wrinkled his nose in confusion. "But I though Santa was that Dark Angel bloke," he said, shaking his head.

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. "No, no, you have them mixed up!! Santa brings all the toys to the boys and girls around the world for Christmas!! Satan is the Dark Angel, also known as Lucifer or the _Devil_."

Draco sighed in frustration. There were just too many muggle phrases for him to figure out.

"I think it's great that you have some sort of handle on muggle phrases though. Most purebloods haven't got a clue!" she continued sweetly.

Draco relaxed a bit. If there was one thing he despised, it was being in the dark about something. He had always been well versed on almost any subject, but Muggle Studies had not exactly been his top priority. He had been far too busy trying to keep up appearances, therefore learning as little as he could about the group of people he was pretending to hate made it much easier. Little things had slipped through however. You can't act as if you're fighting against the Golden Trio without having even the slightest clue about the brains of their operation. Hermione had been the driving force behind those little slips- and having additional information on her would only aid him in his endeavor to impress the Dark Lord, or at least that's what he always told himself.

"Well, what do you think? Is it handsome enough for The Pink Thestral's Christmas Bizarre?" she asked hopefully.

Draco snorted merrily. "Yeah, yeah, you've done a stellar job Granger," he replied shaking his head.

"Thank you," she beamed, "but just you remember this is only the beginning! You and I still have plenty to do…there's hanging the mistletoe, decorating the walls, transfiguring the palms into pine trees-"

"Alright, alright- enough of the to-do list! This blasted bizarre is gonna drive me insane!" he muttered petulantly.

Draco had conceded that if there was one word that could define The Pink Thestral's queer Christmas event it was definitely _bizarre_. When he first heard about it, he literally tore his sack from laughing so hard. Scarlet Wood had not been too happy with his reaction, but it was the most preposterous show in wizarding history. He held out on publicly proclaiming his review, however, for Cabaret! had proven him wrong once before. Today would be the first day that Draco would see the queens rehearse and he smiled smugly at the thought.

_Nothing but a bunch of barmy blokes twisting a muggle Christmas classic into pure, queer, rotgut…_

As if on cue, the pack of prissy wenches sashayed on to the stage, ready to rehearse their newest show, A Pink Christmas. A parody of Irving Berlin's White Christmas, The Pink Thestral revamped the entire plotline, mutating it into a frighteningly queer version of the original. Madragora and Belladonna would play Bob Wallace and Phil Davis. Draco found it all entirely ludicrous, men dressed up as women dressed up as men- could you get anymore mental? Amortentia and Delish would play the parts of Judy and Betty Haynes. There were several extras- young, virile knob jockeys dying to get out on stage and prove that they were, indeed, Broadway material.

The queens rehearsed the music for about an hour, Amortentia sang 'Sisters' with perfect pitch and Delish added her alto bravado where it was needed. Draco had to admit that the songs were performed wonderfully. After the musical portion of their rehearsal, the queens began the dance numbers. Amortentia was, of course, absolutely wonderful and she spun about with such grace and ease that even Draco couldn't help but smile. Delish was also extremely poised, her posture was perfect and she glided across the stage with a unique refinement. As the couples continued their dancing, Draco noticed Belladonna edging closer and closer to the end of the stage. It was odd, almost as if she were deliberately directing Delish towards the edge. Draco furrowed his brows, expecting her to pull the lithe, young dancer back from the edge at any moment. But before Draco could even utter, Delish spun right off of the stage and landed on the floor with a great crash.

"Great Merlin!!" Hermione cried out worriedly.

She was up over the bar in a flash and she sprinted to Delish's side, crouching next to her and taking her hand.

"Are you alright, Delish?" Hermione asked concernedly.

There was a meek reply, one Draco couldn't quite make out as he hastened towards the scene of the accident. His chunky heels clunked unflatteringly as he closed in on them. Lying on the floor was a shaky, and quite ashen, Delish Felicis. Belladonna stood over them, wringing her hands and sputtering apologies. Draco narrowed his eyes and scowled at the blasted bitch. He didn't believe a damn word she said. He had seen her purposely spin Delish right off the end of the stage and he glared at her malevolently. She returned his glare with her own brand of contempt, her black eyes probing him with utter scorn. Her top lip curled back over her teeth in a feral sneer, but behind the open hostility was an air of complacency, one that Draco had picked up on quite easily and suddenly he felt a bit nervous.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13- The Christmas Bizarre: Part Two

Draco lounged elegantly between Hermione and Madragora, his long, tight-clad legs stretched out in front of him like two peppermint wands. He scratched them cantankerously, wishing he could rip the red and white, woolen fabric from his body. He leaned forward warily, noting that every blasted move he made caused the ruddy corset hugging his abdomen to either jab his ribs or pinch his skin. Needless to say, the elf look was already getting old, and Delish's fall, further disheartening the crafty Slytherin, had successfully aided in catapulting Draco's already exasperating day into total chaos. Scarlet Wood was currently speaking with the Healer at St. Mungos via floo, and Draco, Hermione, and the remaining queens sat quietly, hoping for the best.

Draco growled inwardly as he glared accusingly at Belladonna. That hag was definitely up to something, and whatever it was involved sabotaging the show. What could she gain out of getting rid of Delish? There had never been any animosity between the two of them before, so why would Belladonna purposely injure one of her fellow queens?? It was extremely odd, and a bit disturbing. Whatever it was that Belladonna had up her sleeve had Draco worried, and Draco seldom fretted over anything.

Scarlet Wood scurried over to where they all sat. She looked considerably relieved and she shot them all a reassuring grin. "Well, Delish is going to be okay," she said thankfully.

All of the queens began muttering to themselves, Madragora let out a breath and Hermione clasped her hands.

"But, it appears that she will be unable to participate in the show. The Healer said that she broke her leg in two places, which requires longer recovery time. She'll be out for at least two weeks," Wood continued anxiously, "which means we're one queen short for the production."

"What are we going to do?" Madragora asked irritably.

"Perhaps we should just cancel the Bizarre in light of the circumstances," Wood stated ruefully.

"_NO_!" Amortentia spat angrily, "just because some prissy little wench can't watch where she's going doesn't mean that we all have to suffer!"

Draco looked at her in astonishment. It had never been like Lockhart to be openly hostile, but as Amoretentia Moonstone, Draco could only assume that the constant approbation played up her new personality considerably. The bloody git had always been ridiculously arrogant and now, as The Pink Thestral's most revered headliner, Draco could only imagine the utter pomposity that had milked the queen of all her faculties.

"Well, what would you suggest then, Amortentia?? That 'wench' is currently laid up in St. Mungo's and completely unable to dance," Wood replied curtly.

"There has to be some way we can make this work," Belladonna interjected, "perhaps an understudy??"

"An understudy?? And who, exactly, could play the part of Betty Haynes??" Wood replied challengingly.

"Well, I happen to know someone who might be right for the part. Names Ginger Hellebore, she worked at Huffle Poofs before it closed down," Belladonna stated knowledgeably, "she's a stellar performer, nothing compared to Amortentia, of course, but…she'll do."

Wood furrowed her brows and tapped her chin with her index finger. "I don't know, Belladonna," she replied worriedly, "The show is in one week and she hasn't even read the script."

"I think the idea has merit," Amortentia chimed in, "it would allow us to continue on as if nothing has happened. You could at least give the poor queen a chance, Scarlet."

Wood bit her bottom lip and raised a brow. "I suppose an audition wouldn't hurt," she replied nodding her head, "but I'll need references first."

"Of course," Belladonna replied smugly, "I'll have them owled to you as soon as possible."

"Alright. I believe that's all we can do for now," Wood stated smoothly, "Belladonna…you may use my owl to send post to her directly. I need her to come by as soon as possible, we must keep in mind that we have a very strict timeline. If she cannot accommodate our schedule then the show will have to be cancelled."

Belladonna nodded, a triumphant smirk spread over her face. "Oh, I'm fairly certain she'll go out of her way to accommodate the club," she replied exultantly.

"Right then, let's go contact her," Wood replied and motioned for Belladonna to join her.

The pair hastened toward the office and Draco narrowed his eyes, watching as they ascended the flight of stairs, Belladonna's hand at the small of Wood's broad back. The ease with which that hag had just persuaded Wood only heightened Draco's trepidation. The former jock had been played like a piccolo and Draco wondered what it was about Belladonna that so effortlessly reduced the generous Gryffindor into putty in her masculine hands. He had seen them once before, and Belladonna's hands had been resting on a lot more than just the small of Wood's back- but could that particularly factor in to the immense power the queen seemed to have over Scarlet Wood?

"Illustra," Hermione said softly, breaking Draco out of his reverie, "I think we should get back to work. We still have to stock the bar and finish decorating the club so let's get a move on."

Draco looked over at Hermione and wrinkled his nose. The last thing he wanted to do was finish decorating the club. He had more important things on his mind, like figuring out what that hag Belladonna was up to.

"Now _Illustra_, don't give me that look," she stated haughtily, "we only have an hour or so before Harmoniously Hogwarts gets here and I'd like to get the decorations completed before then. So quit sulking and get your arse over here!"

"What the hell is Harmoniously Hogwarts?" he asked, frowning in disgust.

"Merlin, you'd think you'd been living under a rock for the past year," Hermione replied shaking her head, "Harmoniously Hogwarts is the choir that Minerva McGonagall instituted the year after our graduation. They were booked as the opening act for the first night of the Bizarre. It's a wonder you have any idea what's going on- do you even listen to anything anyone says around here?"

"Honestly Granger, when it comes to some twisted, queer Christmas show…no," he replied rolling his eyes.

"Typical Malfoy," she shot back quietly and crossed her arms, "so very…_selective._ I suppose your hauteur is what provokes such fastidiousness."

Never one to back down from a verbal spar with the ever expressive Gryffindor, Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked self-importantly. "Indeed, Granger, it's in my blood," he replied smoothly, "so I suggest you get used to my _confidence_."

"Confidence? Don't delude yourself, Draco," she stated incredulously, "confidence is the quality or state of being certain, not the ever tireless assumption that you are king of the blasted world!"

Draco chuckled merrily. "I assure you that I am far from being deluded Granger," he said as he strolled toward her slowly.

Hermione fidgeted slightly as he closed the gap between them. It was never even a question as to whether Draco could manipulate the conversation. He needed only to hint at intimacy and immediately the girl became a flustered heap of raging hormones- which, naturally, she had no earthly idea what to do with- so she blushed and fidgeted and babbled incoherently.

Throwing a casual glance over his shoulder and noting their seclusion, he stepped up to her and traced one long finger over her exposed upper arm. A trail of prickled flesh followed his soft touch and she immediately stepped back, attempting to flee from his pointed methods of ultimate proof. He gripped her arm lightly, pulling her closer to him and she inhaled sharply and bit her lip. If she had any idea, any clue at all what she did to him: any clue that his heart was pounding furiously, as it always did whenever he touched her, any clue that his entire body felt as though it were plummeting towards the earth at breakneck speed- if she knew any of these things, she would ultimately realize that she truly held _all_ the power. Fortunately for him, his impenetrable Malfoy exterior aided in schooling these unfathomable emotions so perfectly that Hermione Granger would never know the extent of Draco's true feelings for her- feelings that even he had yet to completely understand.

"Your reaction only supports my theory, Granger," he continued softly as he brought his other hand up to tug at one of her curls, "does your body always react this way to men, or is it only the arrogant prat that does it for you?"

Hermione drew in a shaky breath and narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were concerned about such _public_ displays, Malfoy," she replied, purposely ignoring his jibe.

Draco smirked wickedly. "As far as I can see, Granger, we appear to be _quite_ alone," he replied effortlessly.

Hermione's eyes darted shiftily around the room. "Anyone could walk in and see us…at anytime," she stated anxiously.

"Ah, the thrill of getting caught," Draco stated excitedly, "and what would they see, exactly?? A nosy swot of a bartendress and her big, queeny sidekick having a word….nothing more…"

"But you're touching me!" she hissed and stepped away from him.

"Enjoying it, are you?" he replied with a wicked grin. She huffed irritably and shoved his chest with considerable force. He stumbled back a bit and chuckled triumphantly, which earned him another malicious glare from the Golden Gryffindor.

"You are such a git!" she roared and stormed into the kitchen. Draco shook his head and chuckled again. She really was adorable when she was mad. He grabbed a rag and began mopping up the bar, humming a Christmas tune to himself contentedly.

"Provoking the muggleborn, eh Illustra?" Amortentia's pitchy voice drawled and Draco spun around rapidly, his wand drawn in defense.

The elegant queen giggled lightly and arched a brow. She leaned toward him from her covert position in the shadows- a position that had hidden her quite well. He stared at his former Professor in astonishment, lowering his wand slowly. He hadn't seen her loitering nearby, if he had, he would never have goaded Granger so openly. This fact was neither here nor there, however, as she regarded him with the most wicked expression. Immediately, Draco was on alert...the last thing he needed was to deal with another ridiculous advance, especially with the bloody Starina of the effing club. Luckily, the thick mahogany bar served as a barrier between them and he appraised her cautiously as she slid her hand leisurely over the bar top. She wore a cobalt colored gown with a bright white satin sash, both colors enhancing her deep blue eyes effectively. Her long blonde locks were pulled away from her face and fastened with sparkling, rhinestone clips. The tiny, diamond-like stones glinted under the bar lights as she turned her head to watch Hermione retreat into the kitchen. Draco raised a brow as he surveyed the magnificent queen- the long, blonde hair, the glamorous evening gown...she looked exactly like Barbarella!! The resemblance to that little doll Draco had seen those irritating muggle girls begging their mothers for was uncanny. All she needed was her blasted boyfriend, Kent, and Litte Miss Headliner would break the mold- the perfect example of Queershire, U.K.

"Er, you could say that," he replied warily, unsure why Amortentia was speaking to him in the first place. She rarely ventured out of her dressing room, and when she did it was only to chat with Wood or to rehearse.

Amortentia smiled serenely. "She's quite…_enthralling_, is she not?" the queen continued, "brilliant, kind, and also, quite the looker."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I suppose you could say that," he stated off-handedly, "but in all honesty, I hadn't really noticed."

Amortentia laughed incredulously. "It's not very difficult to see, Illustra," she exclaimed arrogantly, "you work with her every single day, for Merlin's sake! Admitting that a woman is a catch is hardly cause for alarm."

Draco was a little peeved by the situation. He felt as if Amortentia were testing him, which made him feel quite uncomfortable, indeed. Things were certainly starting to get a bit dodgy around the club and Draco's earlier qualms regarding Belladonna, and now, Amortentia, suddenly popped back into his mind. With the two twisted hags lurking like bats in the blasted belfry, he would really need to be on his guard.

"Um…sure, I guess she's a catch," he replied silkily, "she's definitely a very caring individual."

He wiped the bar casually, hoping that his nonchalance was convincing. Amortentia eyed him closely for a moment but then smiled and nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, she certainly is," she stated with a hint of sarcasm, "quite the warm hearted Gryffindor."

Draco shrugged non-commitally and continued to clean. He figured that the less emotion he expressed, the less he would have to worry about.

"Well, I suppose I should be going," Amortentia said with a haughty sigh, "places to go, people to impress...be seeing you, Illustra."

With that, the star headliner turned on her heel and swept away. She passed Hermione on her way backstage and they nodded at one another demurely. Hermione stomped up to Draco and slammed a jug of olives on the bar top.

"Look Malfoy, enough of this crap, okay?! We need to finish decorating and that's final!!" she spat irritably.

Draco nodded distractedly and Hermione shook her hand in front of his face.

"Are you doing that selective thing again, _Illustra_?" she inquired petulantly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Enough Hermione!" he replied firmly. She stiffened immediately at his use of her first name, something that he never, _ever_ did. He bit back a chuckle and shook his head. "Let's do this," he continued with little excitement, "we wouldn't want to keep Harmonica Hogwarts waiting."

Hermione scoffed and shook her head. "It's Harmoniously Hogwarts Draco, for cripe's sake!" she stated with immense frustration, "you and your bloody selective bullshite."

Draco smirked and raised a brow. "I say we do the mistletoe first Granger, you definitely look like you need a good snog," he shot back silkily and she immediately flushed.

"Leave it to you to decide when I need to get some," she muttered tetchily, "randy tosser."

"You know it," he shot back impishly, "now, what are we _really_ doing first??"

Hermione picked up her wand and began trotting excitedly about. Draco abruptly regretted his agreement to participate in this festive facade and he rolled his eyes and skulked after her dejectedly. Hermione spun around and pointed her wand at the palm trees.

"Your job will be to transfigure all of the palms into pines with little twinkle lights...think you can handle it, Ebeneezer?" she asked with a snigger.

"Oi! What the hell is that? Some muggle insult?!" he replied unhappily.

Hermione put a hand up over her mouth as she giggled furiously. "Great Gobs of Gillyweed, Draco!! Have you never heard of A Christmas Carol?" she asked in disbelief.

"Oh yeah...that muggle classic by Charlie Dickburn! He also wrote David Copperpot and Ollivander Twist!" he replied proudly, an exultant smirk spreading over his face.

Hermione snorted loudly and then doubled over.

_Damn it!! _

"Maybe you should just give it a rest with the bloody muggle phrases, mate," the Anti-Merlin stated exasperatedly, "you only seem to make yourself look like a total moron."

_Something you would know plenty about..._

"OI! I'll have you know that I am far more knowledgeable about these things than you are, bloody wanker!" the Anti-Merlin spat tersely.

_If that's the case then why aren't you influencing what I say, Mr. Know-It-All??_

"Ah, you're implying that I could actually control anything that comes out of your filthy mouth...sorry lad, but you're a lost cause," the Anti-Merlin berrated him mercilessly.

_Then why are you babbling in my ear in the first place, you fool!_

"Er, Draco??" Hermione said through her laughter, "why are you pointing your wand in your face and muttering about...did you say _Anti-Merlin_??"

"Um...no...I said, Auntie Merilyn...she read muggle classics to me when I was younger," he floundered.

Hermione raised her brows in surprise. "Really?? What did she read to you?" she asked curiously, her dark eyes dancing with mischief.

Draco sighed heavily, he had obviously set himself up for another round of Are You Smarter than a Muggleborn...he wish he knew how to shut up every now and then.

"Well, there were the fairy tales...Sasparilla, Hancock & Greta, Petey & the Werewolf, and Rumplemintz," he replied uncertainly.

Hermione bit her lip and looked away. Apparently, he had done it again.

"Um, Draco, it's _Cinderella_, _Hansel & Gretel_, _Peter & the Wolf_, and _Rumplestilskin_," she corrected decorously.

"Damn it! I am over all this muggle bullshite!" he exploded bitterly.

Hermione smiled slightly and cocked her head to the side. "I'm going to go start draping the garlands, you finish up the trees," she said and bit her lip. Turning around quickly, she hurried away, but Draco could distinctly make out the string of giggles that followed her and he sulked bitterly.

_Stupid muggles..._

He watched her as she rushed about, pointing her wand at a nearby doorway and flicking it smoothly. Immediately, a beautiful garland appeared and he smiled appreciatively. He had to admit that he was quite impressed, she certainly had exceptional taste. As he gazed around the club he was suddenly reminded of his mother and her tendency to go completely overboard during the holidays. Narcissa Malfoy had always prided herself on excellence- not one holiday at the Manor had been lacking, not one family event dismall. As Draco gazed around him, his mouth fell open in shock. Hermione's brilliance did not end at academics- the woman was equal, or perhaps better, than any pureblooded witch he had ever encountered. He shook his head and began transfiguring the trees, his mind reeling with this new discovery. Each day at the club was proving more and more dangerous for him- if he didn't get out of there soon he'd end up as her bloody lap dog- and _that_ was completely unacceptable.

After an hour's worth of decorating, the club was almost finished. The queens had all retired to their dressing rooms to prepare for 'Harmoniously Hogwarts', with the exception of Wood and Belladonna, who had managed to get Ginger Hellebore to come down for an interview/ audition. Draco had yet to see the infamous understudy, but had heard whispers that she was quite beautiful.

Draco perched on a ladder in a far corner of the club and hung the last bunch of mistletoe with a sticking charm. Hermione hastened up to him just as he climbed down and began blabbering away about the new queen, completely unaware that she was directly under the premiscuous plant.

Draco glanced wickedly around the club and then smirked devilishly. He motioned to Hermione casually, indicating tht he wanted to tell her something. She furrowed her brows inquisitively and stepped forward.

"What is it Draco?" she asked quickly.

Without warning, he pulled her forward, his lips crashing down on hers with primal force. He pulled her into the darkened corner and she moaned fortuitousy as his tongue swept gently into her mouth. Her hands instinctively wrapped around his neck and his went around her waist. They indulged one another for several minutes but then broke apart swiftly, emerging from their hidden corner, panting and gazing around dazedly.

"Cute," Hermione murmured breathlessly as she gazed up at the mistletoe.

Draco smirked and raised his brows. "I thought so," he replied wickedly.

"Illustra, Hermione!" Wood's pitched, Scottish brogue resounded nearby and they both jumped in fright. Smoothing her mussed hair, Hermione stepped forward and pointed at the mistletoe in a busineslike manner. Draco straightened the stupid, muff-like fur collar that adorned his neck and looked up at the bundle with feigned interest.

"Is this the last one, Illustra?" she asked casually as Wood approached them.

"Uh, yes, it is Hermione," he replied haughtily and bit back a snort.

Wood sashayed up to them slowly, a tall, dark skinned queen following closely behind her. "Ah, here you are," she stated merrily, "I wanted to introduce you to the newest member of our show...Ginger Hellebore."

Wood stepped aside to reveal a tall, elegant looking queen with skin the color of smooth dark chocolate. She was very beautiful and her sharp, angular features stood out prominently. Her long, caramel collared mane was pulled back in a tight ponytail and thick make-up enhanced her emerald eyes. She was just as lithe as Delish and she smiled arrogantly as she stepped forward with a self-righteous swagger.

"Pleasure," she drawled smoothly and held out her hand.

Almost immediately Draco was struck with an intense feeling of deja vu.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Revelio

Draco paced back and forth behind the bar, muttering furiously to himself. The feeling of familiarity that the new queen, Ginger Hellebore, invoked was driving him mad. She had been quite cordial to he and Hermione while they were introduced- the amount of vanity exhibited on her part was that of any other normal queen. Nevertheless, there was an air of smug deliberation behind her public pretense that felt all too familiar. This feeling, this _déjà vu_, worried Draco more than he liked to admit. Belladonna's _accidental_ oversight had placed this new queen into the club, a queen that seemed to scream acquaintance- a detail that rooted in Draco's psyche and caused him a great deal of anxiety. For any other individual, this could easily be overlooked, the feeling of having met someone in the past a normal part of life. Hell, any other person could have met the queen's male counterpart in Diagon Alley or at some freaky, evening gown fetish show, but Draco was not any other person. If he had had the chance to meet this individual before, it was likely that she was a Death Eater or someone who had shown allegiance to the dark side during the war.

_Salazar's Swollen Knob! This is definitely not good…_

It was a little known fact that Draco had aided the light side during the war, though the Death Eaters had managed to establish that it was he who had acted as the mole. How they had figured it out was beyond him. His former associate, Gregory Goyle- a man who had publicly renounced the old ways- had tipped him off to the fact that he was now under contract. A price had been placed on his head and any and all remaining Death Eaters had been notified to bring him in, preferably alive, so they could torture him respectively _before_ they killed him.

Draco cringed at the thought of enduring the Crucio, he had never been on the firing end of the curse but had seen it performed many times. His thoughts suddenly centered around one fateful night in his family's drawing room, the screams of a certain muggleborn witch admonishing him with heavy deliberation. He had been completely frozen with terror- watching his Auntie Bella torture Hermione Granger had been the most difficult thing he had had to endure during the war. Standing there like a bloody marionette, gripping his wand furiously, he had fought diligently to remain impassive. That night had tested his capacity for indifference like no other. Even now, he shuddered visibly when he thought about what might have happened had he not been able to control himself. Bellatrix LeStrange would likely have ended up on the other end of _his_ killing curse, rather than Molly Weasley's.

"Illustra, are you okay?" Hermione asked softly. She stepped towards him slowly and he looked down at her with bleary eyes.

That same girl was standing before him now, no longer writhing in agony on the floor, no longer pleading with his aunt to cease her merciless torture. She was staring at him with such a loving expression that he visibly winced.

"Draco?" she whispered worriedly, "Are you alright?"

He nodded wordlessly and immediately straightened up. Remembering himself, he leaned forward and spoke quietly. "I think we may have a problem, Granger. I think it would be in everyone's best interest if we contacted Scar…er, Potter and let him know that a new queen has been placed in the club."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Why? What's going on?" she asked quizzically.

"I think this Ginger Hellebore may be a wolf in pig's clothing," he said softly.

Hermione bit her lip and Draco rolled his eyes. "Enough with the bloody muggle gobshite, this is serious!!" he spat petulantly.

Hermione nodded, her eyes narrowing significantly. "You know, when Wood introduced her, I felt like I had met her before. There was this…arrogant swagger to her demeanor that reminded me of you," Hermione replied quietly.

Draco snorted. "Thanks a lot Granger," he said with a smirk.

"You know what I mean!" she replied huffily, "I think she might have gone to school with us...and if she did, she was definitely a Slytherin."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth Draco felt as if he had been stupefied. Of course!! The hag had gone to school with them!! If she _had_ gone to Hogwarts-

_Merlin's bloody bollocks!! _

Draco growled inwardly. There was only one person who had the same arrogant swagger, the smooth cocoa colored skin, the features that pointed to the most limpid of gene pools, and the brazen confidence that boasted of cool indifference. Not to mention, this particular individual was a Slytherin _and_ declared his allegiance to the Dark Lord.

_Zabini…_

Blaise Zabini had always longed to prove himself to the Dark Lord. He had taken the mark right around the same time as Draco and had completed every task that had been assigned to him. He had always supported Anti-Muggle views and had publicly declared his own ideas regarding the non-magical community on several occasions, none of which were positive. Draco began pacing frantically, his glide completely shot to hell. Not only was he irritated that he hadn't fingered the snarky git immediately but he was also a bit perturbed that this particular wanker had remained at large. How he managed that was beyond him- Zabini had never been the brightest bulb on Fraudway.

"Please, for the love of Merlin, stop the bloody muggle sayings already!!" the Anti-Merlin stated irritably, "they are _clearly_ erroneous!!"

_Ah, shove it…_

"Shove it??" the Anti-Merlin spat derisively, "I don't think I appreciate your candor."

_You want candor? I'll give you candor! Has anyone ever told you that you're an uptight, old troll? Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to tell Hermione about Zabini!! _

"Fine," the Anti-Merlin replied, the hurt in his voice entirely evident. Draco rolled his eyes, now he was feeling pity for the logically irritating voice in his head!! He was really starting to lose it.

Draco looked down at Hermione and prepared to explain his theory about Zabini when one Minerva McGonagall and her horde of singing swots burst into the club, successfully interrupting him in the process.

_Speaking of trolls…_

"Hermione, dear!!" the tight-lipped old crone exclaimed, "It's been ages!"

Draco quirked a brow sardonically and appraised his former Professor- she hadn't changed a bit. She was the same uptight, taut faced, rigid old bat who should have been an exhibit at Madame Tussaud's rather than Headmistress of Hogwarts. Draco bit back a laugh as he imagined her posed next to some muggle nitwit like Lou Lefter and his pack of Play Mats. The imagery was quite priceless- Minerva McGonagall amongst a bunch of big-busted, blonde, bimbos- she'd fit right in.

_Ha! Like a screen door on a submariner!_

He surveyed the group of students at her side. They all beamed proudly, their gaze fixed resolutely on Hermione. Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes- apparently part of the world was still enthralled by the Golden Trio.

Hermione smiled sweetly and clasped her hands. "Er, Minerva…it's lovely to see you," she stated cordially and stepped around Draco. She exited the bar area and hastened over to McGonagall. The female students watched her with total admiration and the male students drooled. Draco narrowed his eyes but, apparently, his elfin attire made him significantly less intimidating. Their reaction was a round of exultant smirks and quiet sniggers.

_Irreverent little tossers!_

McGonagall pulled Hermione into a tight embrace and chuckled. "How have you been? How's Wizarding University going??" she asked thoughtfully.

Draco drummed his fingers on the bar top and waited for Hermione and McGonagall to put an end to their bonding moment. He really needed to get up to his quarters, unnoticed by Hellebore the Horrible, so he could contact St. Potter and the Great Red Lump.

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Very well, thanks," she replied distractedly, "er, Minerva…this is Illustra Lacewing, she's our newest employee."

"Nice to meet you," Minerva replied and tipped her head slightly.

Draco nodded courteously. "Likewise," he stated smoothly.

"Minerva," Hermione continued, "I'm _so_ sorry but you caught me at the most ghastly moment!! We are right in the middle of getting things ready for your debut. Could we possibly finish this conversation once I get things settled?"

McGonagall smiled and nodded her head. "Why of course, we need to go get set up ourselves. Having the choir sing during the charity auction was a brilliant notion, Hermione. I do believe this _Bizarre_ is going to be a hit!" McGonagall replied with a wink.

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. "Thanks Minerva," she replied hesitantly, "let me show you to the backstage area."

Hermione motioned for Maestro McGonagall and her band of yuletide eunuchs to go ahead of her and as the last of the swots glided by, she waved for Draco to follow. He emerged from behind the bar and strolled next to her casually, hoping to appear at ease, when, in reality, he was anything but.

Hermione glanced at him warily. "What's going on?" she asked nervously.

Draco smiled warmly and spoke in dulcet tones. "I think I know exactly who Hellebore is, Granger," he stated quietly, "does the name, Blaise Zabini ring any bells?"

Hermione's eyes grew to the size of galleons and her mouth fell open. "Holy Crow!" she replied in astonishment.

Draco shot her a warning look and she quickly recovered. "Er, that is quite a lot of sheet music, Minerva," she stated, pointing to the stack in McGonagall's claw.

"Oh, yes…we decided to bring several different bits of music in order to have a wide variety for your guests," she replied contentedly, "I do hope they will suffice."

"I'm sure they will," Hermione replied warmly, "I'll be back up in a moment to help you all get settled."

She pulled Draco by the arm towards the backstage area. "Take the back corridor up to Wood's office and floo Harry," she whispered, "get up there as quickly as possible. I'll get McGonagall settled and then check up on the queens."

"No! I don't want you anywhere near that git, Hermione!!" he exclaimed tightly.

She halted abruptly and looked up at him, her dark eyes radiating the same warmth and compassion- though her countenance seemed significantly altered. A determined smile lightened her face- its depth and meaning different from any other smile she'd ever given him. Resounding resolution, it confirmed total comprehension, as if she finally understood, possibly better than he, exactly how he felt about her. This awareness had caught him off guard and he stalled, staring at her in astonishment as his brain finally caught up with his emotions- emotions that he had tried so assiduously to conceal. In this single moment of recognition, he realized how ludicrous he had truly been. He attempted to force his emotions away, into the recesses of his tattered soul, but his stubborn heart would no longer be dammed. It was amusing, really. During this charade, this ridiculous attempt to deny his feelings, Hermione Granger had effectively stripped him of his indifference. Now, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of this entire predicament, to be able to be the man he was, to be able to take this woman in his arms and tell her just how grateful he was for her ability to successfully destroy the Malfoy frontage. The irony of the situation was incredible- leave it a muggleborn witch to be the embodiment of Malfoy repudiation.

He smirked at her and shook his head. "We'll talk about _that_, later," he said cryptically, though he knew full well she understood what he meant.

She blushed slightly and nodded, waving him forward with one hand. "Go on," she pressed, "I'll be down here with _Harmonica_ Hogwarts."

Draco smirked at her playful mocking. "_Harmoniously_," he replied with a wink, "be back in a bit."

She nodded and watched as Draco headed towards the darkened corridor that led to a hidden stairwell. Draco hastened down the hallway, made his way up the stairs, and rounded a switchback that led to Wood's office. Without a thought, he threw open the door and strode towards his hidden quarters. As soon as he had breezed through the office entryway, the door slammed behind him. His head snapped up instinctively and grey eyes met emerald.

"Well, well, well," Ginger Hellebore stated waspishly, a feral sneer on her face, "If it isn't our dear _Illustra_."

Draco scoffed at the sarcastic lilt in her voice and returned her malevolent glare. Belladonna stood proudly next to Ginger, an identical sneer etched on her face. Both watched him with caution, their wands pointed steadily in his direction.

Shaking his head, Draco crossed his arms casually. "Ginger Hellebore, such a wonderful addition to a pack of putridly prissy chicks with pricks," he replied smoothly.

Hellebore smirked at him callously, her wand held out in front of her. "Ah, still the same irreverent wanker. You always did have a problem holding that tongue of yours," Hellebore stated icily, "It was one of the reasons you fell out of the Dark Lord's favor…_Malfoy._"

"Funny, I was always under the impression that I fell out of the Dark Lord's favor because I failed to kill Albus Dumbledore," Draco replied coolly.

Hellebore pursed her lips. "Don't you mean refused?? And yes, it was one of the many reasons," she replied assuredly.

Draco chuckled triumphantly. "Doesn't seem to really matter now, does it? Your infamous Dark Lord- or shall I call him the psychotic freak hell bent on eradicating an entire race- is _dead_."

Ginger Hellebore scowled at him ruthlessly. "There are many of us who blame you for that," she replied coldly, "the Malfoy family is a disgrace!! You and your mother should be ashamed of what you did to aid Scarhead and the Potterites in the final battle!"

Draco's triumphant countenance hardened immediately. "I wouldn't be so liberal with my opinions if I were you," he replied bitterly, "it could land you in a heap of trouble...I watched many a Death Eater endure the Crucio due to his outspoken nature. Shame, isn't it Zabini…that none of you ever noticed that you were being played like pawns."

Hellebore chuckled merrily. "Always too smart for your own good, Malfoy," Hellebore replied wickedly, "always head of the class- oh wait, no, that was Granger. Speaking of Granger, I must say she turned into quite a pretty little thing...maybe I'll give her a go before I take her life."

Draco growled lucidly. "Touch her and I _will_ kill you," he replied angrily.

Hellebore smirked exultantly. "Ah, I do believe the purest of the Pureblooded wizards has had a taste of the forbidden fruit," she replied smoothly, "she must be quite the shag, eh Draco?"

Draco narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. "Do not speak about Hermione that way," he spat through gritted teeth.

Hellebore laughed aloud. "_Hermione?_ Why Draco, you've given the mudblood a name!!"

Draco dropped to his knees swiftly and pulled his wand from beneath the ridiculous fur collar around his neck. Flinging it out towards Hellebore, he threw a stunning curse at her head. She ducked just in time and lunged sideways. Unsteady on her stilettos, she keeled over and landed with a great thud. Draco sniggered victoriously and spun backwards, aiming his next curse at Belladonna.

The evil hag was too quick, however, and she manage to disarm him with a flick of her wand. Draco watched as his wand soared behind him, hit the wall, and rolled under Wood's desk. He looked at Belladonna, face thick with malice, hands balled into fists at his sides.

She grinned slyly and glanced at Hellebore. "He's disarmed," she stated proudly.

Hellebore stood up, still a bit precarious on her heels, and turned to face Belladonna. "Bind him," she spoke clearly and Belladonna immediately followed instructions.

"Incarcerous," she muttered. Instantly, two thick sets of rope shot out the end of her wand and tethered Draco tightly. He stood there, unable to move, cursing viciously as he struggled against the ropes.

Hellebore smiled and walked over to Draco. "Perfect," she said coolly. She turned around and pointed her wand at Belladonna, "You have been the perfect tool, Belladonna. So easily manipulated…but, I'm afraid we can't have any witnesses to this little situation. Pity…"

Hellebore pointed her wand at the queen and Draco watched as Belladonna's eyes grew to the size of galleons. She gazed at Hellebore, her face contorted with terror. Apparently, she had full comprehension of what was going on.

"Wait!!" she cried, "please…don't!!"

"Avada Kedav- oomph!!!" Draco threw his body at Hellebore and the two of them crashed to the floor. Draco landed on top of the startled queen and he groaned as she struck him in the jaw. Luckily, his binds kept him completely stationary and he managed to pin her between his body and Wood's desk. She continued to struggle against him and eventually managed to push him off and sit up. Draco rolled sideways just in time to see Belladonna's wand pointed in Hellebore's face.

"You ghastly wench!!" she stated furiously, "what did you think you would gain from killing me?? You knew I would do whatever she asked me too!!"

"She didn't ask that you help me kill Draco Malfoy, did she?? Your job was to take out the Auror and publicly offer my services as a stand in," Hellebore answered somberly.

"Taking out the Auror was never a problem, and if she had merely _asked_ that I help you kill Malfoy, I would have done it!!" Belladonna replied.

Draco furrowed his brows. What in Merlin's name were these two bitches babbling about??

"Pardon me, but what the hell are you two on about?" he interjected.

Belladonna looked down at him as if just noticing that he were still in the room. "Since you stopped this bitch from killing me, I'll tell you," she replied bitterly, "Delish Felicis was a former Auror turned queen. Potter asked if she would consider doing another job for the Ministry and she agreed. He placed her in the club to protect you. My job was to take her out of the show and supply Hellebore as the stand in all in one day…Potter would be too busy at St. Mungo's to notice that Wood had brought in a new queen. It went perfectly to plan...everything S-"

Draco jumped as the door to the office was flung open. His eyes instinctively widened as the room was suddenly enveloped in green light, the killing curse streaming above him and striking Belladonna in the head. Draco watched as her eyes slowly went out of focus and she fell to the ground in an unflattering heap. He breathed in deeply then turned his head towards the door. His breath left his body in a gasp of total shock.

Standing in the most regal posture, one hand on her hip, the other gripping her wand tightly, was Amortentia Moonstone.

"Looks like I arrived just in the nick of time," she stated arrogantly, "that Belladonna certainly couldn't manage to keep her trap closed."

She strode forward and smiled down at the fallen queen. "Pity," she said, the same mocking quality in her tone as Hellebore had used when she had uttered it. Amortentia reached down and pulled Hellebore up from the floor.

"Has the other...matter...been taken care of?" Hellebore asked cryptically.

"Yes."

"And the owl?" Hellebore pressed.

"Has been sent," Amortentia replied, "the plan is finally in motion."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15- Prior Incantato

Draco lay on the floor, still tied from head to foot in Belladonna's magical bindings. He stared in total astonishment at the pair of prissy hags that stood over him, speaking cryptically about the brilliant plan they had apparently concocted. His mind was reeling, thoughts of hatching an escape plan muddled by the constant loop replaying the horrible events that had led to Belladonna's death. He had certainly been surprised when Amortentia Moonstone flung open the door and threw that killing curse- Lockhart had never been anything other than a completely self-serving git and the idea that he had joined a group of psychotic Death Eaters was beyond preposterous. Regardless, Draco could not deny that he had witnessed the worthless wench use an Unforgivable, and against her sister, no less. Belladonna had been quite the calculative bitch, but Draco had never wanted her to see her dead.

He glanced over at the fallen queen and shuddered involuntarily. Her body was contorted, her head twisted at an at odd angle, and her once brilliant black eyes gazed at the ceiling- an expression of vacant wonder emanating from their lifeless sockets. She appeared as fragile as a doll, almost artificial, as if she had never been animated at all. Draco found this entirely plausible- he was certain that most of her body was prosthetic and he shook his head sheepishly as he recalled Wood's hands all over her 'plastic bits'.

His thoughts strayed to Hermione- he had promised her that he would return quickly- what if she ventured upstairs to check on him? He hoped that McGonagall, the Great Witch of Gryffindork, would keep her occupied long enough for these two fools to move him before she came up…or kill him- whichever it was that they had been ordered to do. As long as Hermione remained unharmed, he'd be willing to deal with either.

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. This new selfless outlook of his was really starting to annoy. If he managed to get out of this mess alive, he was going to have to spend an entire day making Hermione serve a just amount of penance…complete with leather chaps- the bloody witch had transformed him into a blasted Hufflepuff, and _that_ was not something he was willing to take lightly. The fact that he had come to terms with his feelings was not the major issue, it was the fact that it had occurred ten seconds before battling Hellebore the Horrible. Personally, he thought it had really put a damper on his ability to intimidate- well, at least in his mind. Hellebore the Horrific Hag had seemed fairly surprised by his performance, and if it hadn't been for Belladonna the Butch Wonder, Draco might have prevailed in their little duel. As it was, none of that seemed to matter anymore.

"Ginger, do you happen to have my wand?" Amortentia asked suddenly.

Draco looked up at her and furrowed his brows. Hadn't she just used her wand to kill Belladonna??

Amortentia glanced down at Draco and scoffed at his confounded expression. "Don't look so confused, my dear," she stated cockily, "I always prided myself on my ability to nick things when others weren't looking. So, while you were busy tending bar, I took it upon myself to nab your pathetic little wand. It certainly came in handy, although it made throwing that curse a bit more difficult, but then again, I suppose throwing it with my own wand might have caused problems for _me_ down the road. Apparently, convenience was key in this situation- Belladonna was going to die one way or another, better it happened by your wand than _mine_."

Draco frowned instinctively. What did it matter whose wand she used to throw the curse?? And why would her use of _his_ wand make any difference? He pondered this for a moment and then gasped in realization.

_Prior Incantato…_

Amortentia was worried that the Aurors would examine her wand and cast the detection spell. Now that Draco's wand had thrown the curse, she would be completely ruled out as a suspect. The hag would walk and, since Draco would likely be dead, there would be no one to dispute her story.

Hellebore chuckled merrily at the disturbed look on Draco's face. "I do believe he's starting to put things together, Amortentia," she stated coolly, "though I'm certain he'll be floored once the entire plot has been revealed."

"About _that_, I have no doubt. Now…my wand?" she replied impatiently.

Hellebore sighed heavily and shook her head. "I'm not sure where it is Amortentia," she admitted plainly, "he was dueling with it one minute and the next, it was gone."

"_Where_ is my wand, Malfoy?" Amortentia asked, and bent down to press the tip of Draco's wand into his chest.

Draco sneered at Amortentia and bared his teeth. "How should I know?" he replied bitterly.

"You were dueling with it- therefore you should have some idea where it is. Tell me now or I'll be happy to acquaint you with the _Crucio_," Amortentia replied and raised a brow sardonically.

"Amortentia, we don't have time for this!" Hellebore hissed.

"We have plenty of time," Amortentia stated carelessly, "and I'll _need_ my wand in order to make this plan work. Five minutes should suffice…I'll just torture it out of him!"

Draco smirked triumphantly. The dim-witted dame had slipped up in her quest to be a rabid wench, inadvertently letting on that his time was not as limited as he initially believed. Being a spy during the War had certainly lent to honing his skills, and assessing a situation had become his area of expertise. The queens were not meant to kill him at the club, and that gave Draco a bit of time to figure out exactly _how_ he would get out of the sticky little mess he found himself in. He did wonder what Hellebore had meant by the 'other matter' and there was also the issue with the owl- whom had they contacted?? One thing was certain, they were not going to be arguing about Moonstone's bloody wand for much longer, so Draco needed to formulate a plan.

"Look Amortentia, not that I wouldn't love to watch you torture this little prick, but we have specific instructions. He clearly does not have your wand so we'll have to find it later," Hellebore said irritably.

"What if the Aurors start sticking their nosy beaks in our business?? After everything plays out, that's a good possibility!" she snapped resentfully, "the last thing I need is them asking questions that I won't have the answers to!!"

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Amortentia, things will be handled with the utmost care, including the secrecy of your role in this entire operation," Hellebore shot back bitterly.

"She won't be happy about this. She wanted everything to run smoothly. Losing my wand was not part of the arrangement," Amortentia continued as if Hellebore had not even spoken.

"I am _well_ aware of what she wanted, you fool!! Now quit your bitching or I'll permanently remove the bollocks you work so hard to hide!!" Hellebore bellowed- her magically enhanced pitch cracking roughly as she cursed at Amortentia.

Draco, who was still lying on the floor against Wood's desk, glanced covertly to his right. He noted that Amortentia's wand had rolled into a gap between two planks of the mahogany floor. He could just make it out as light from an upper window glinted on its smooth, Hawthorne handle. If only he could get out of these ropes!! He looked back up and rolled his eyes as the queens continued to argue like a pair of prissy prima donnas suffering from Pre-Menstrual Syndrome. He figured he had another minute before they ended their little spat so he rolled sideways, putting his back to Wood's desk and bent at the waist. The ropes were taut and cut into his body painfully, but he managed to shimmy his lower half under the desk's small alcove and pulled his arm around his back, suffering some mean rope burn in the process. He groped at the wand with his fingers, its slick surface making it difficult for him to get a good grip, and it had apparently lodged itself between the planks quite well.

"Don't threaten me, Ginger!! You could have captured Malfoy a year ago, but you let him slip right through your fingers!! It was quite a shock when you found out your best friend had been the mole, wasn't it? Must have made you look quite undesirable in the eyes of our Master." Amortentia spat angrily.

Hellebore scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "_Please_! You were nothing but a barmy bloke handing out autographs when I found you. If it weren't for me, you'd still be locked away in the loony ward at St. Mungo's," Hellebore replied smoothly, "don't forget who gave you your freedom, wench!! I can take away as easily as I give."

Draco bit his lower lip in frustration as the wand slipped through his fingers again. He had managed to wrench it out of its sticky position so that the handle was easier to grip, but the ropes weren't giving any leverage and all Hellebore had to do was look down to see him flopping around like a Pink Plimpy. He cursed inwardly- he _had_ to get that wand, and fast. With all of his effort and concentration, he heaved his arm backwards and splayed his palm- just as the vice-like grip of the ropes threatened to snap it in half- he felt his fingers go round the handle of the sleek baton. He moved forward as quickly as he could, shoving the wand up under his forearm and into the silky fabric of his costume. It was at this moment that Draco appreciated his feminine garb, for the outlandish elf costume aided in concealing his contraband.

As abruptly as Draco had managed to get back into position, the queens had ended their silly squabble and Hellebore the Hellion heaved him up by his ridiculous, fur collar. Gripping onto his binds, she wound her other arm around his shoulders and faced Amortentia. "Go downstairs and keep an eye out for Potter and that idiot Weasel," she stated coldly, "when they arrive, be sure to lead them up here. I'll take care of everything else."

Draco eyed Hellebore closely- she looked quite content about something. "Ready to go see your lover, Drakie-Poo?" she asked and then let a high cackle slip from her glossy lips, "she's just _dying_ to see you."

Draco gasped as realization and the effects of apparation dawned on him. His lungs squeezed tight, his body- already tightly bound by the pair of oppressive ropes, felt as though it were being crushed under the weight of the coming storm. His heart hammered wildly as they traveled towards their destination and he felt his stomach drop as their feet landed on a soft, green, woolen rug. He didn't need to look up- he knew exactly where they were. Apparently, the other _matter_ the queens had been discussing had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Hermione Granger.

"Not even going to spare a glance for your little whore, Malfoy?" Hellebore drawled coldly and ushered him forward. Draco stumbled, his bindings too tight for him to catch himself and he fell forward. His head struck the end of the coffee table and he heard a distinctively muffled cry coming from the couch. He rolled sideways and peered through bleary eyes at a much disheveled Hermione. She was tied at hand and foot and a piece of dark fabric gagged her mouth. She gazed at Draco, her dark eyes brimming with concern, and he suddenly had the urge to snort. Only she could be so completely focused on _his_ condition when she was clearly in danger of losing her life.

_Bloody selfless Gryffindor…_

He pulled his knees upward, rolled to the side, and pushed himself into a sitting position, using the coffee table as leverage. The hidden wand poked into his side uncomfortably but he didn't dare flinch, lest Hellebore become aware of his smuggled magic. His head throbbed from where it had hit the table and he felt something sticky and wet dripping down his face, which he could only assume was blood. He glanced quickly over his shoulder at Hellebore, who was wiping the soot off of her emerald gown, and then turned his focus back to Hermione. She stared at him, her eyes wide with alarm, and he imagined he looked quite worse for the wear with his leaking wound staining the white fur of his elfin get up. There was something else behind her eyes though- something that she was trying to get across without tipping off the gender confused Death Eater standing behind him.

Hellebore cleared her throat and sashayed forward, halting just a foot from where both Draco and Hermione faced one another. "As I recall, you were rather good at Wizard's Chess, Malfoy," Hellebore stated simply, interrupting their private communication, "that said, I think that, in light of the situation, it's high time I brought out my Queen."

Draco looked at Hellebore as if she had grown another head and she chuckled merrily. "Ah, I see that you are confused," she continued, "there really is a rather exceptional explanation for all of this, and who better to tell it than-"

"You know, you waste valuable time by taunting your victims," a familiar Scottish brogue drawled wickedly.

Draco had gone completely limp. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open in absolute astonishment as the 'Queen' Hellebore had so affectionately referred to, strode into the room. _This_ was apparently what Hermione had been trying to tell him. Gilderoy Lockhart, the solicited Death Eater turned drag queen was nothing compared to the shock he felt as Scarlet Wood sashayed towards him.

"I see that you are considerably surprised, Malfoy," Wood stated sharply, "almost as surprised as I was when I found out that _you_ were acting as the mole in our War against mudbloods and blood traitors alike. And now, here you sit, next to your mudblood whore!! I never thought I'd see the day when a Malfoy turned his back on the purity driven beliefs they so desperately clung to. You and your parents are a disgrace to pureblood witches and wizards everywhere- if your Aunt were alive she'd spit in your face before she tortured you to madness."

Draco's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes. "What has my Auntie Bella got to do with this?" he asked suspiciously.

Scarlet Wood took two steps forward and struck Draco hard across the face with a closed fist. He could feel a welt begin to form just under his left eye and he winced as his hidden wand poked into his side painfully.

"Don't you _ever_ call her that again- you no longer have the right to refer to her so affectionately!" Wood shouted angrily.

Draco looked up at him warily. "Who the hell are you?" he asked apprehensively. He felt he knew the answer, but needed confirmation anyway. If he were correct, both he and Hermione were in a lot of trouble.

"Don't you recognize me?" Wood replied with a mirthless laugh, "being such an acute undercover agent certainly didn't do much for you, did it…_nephew_?"

Draco shut his eyes and exhaled precariously. His thoughts, or rather fears, had been confirmed. This was not Oliver Wood- there was no telling where the poor bastard was. He had probably been kidnapped some time during Draco's hiding and replaced by Rodolphus Lestrange. Draco quite certain he was still alive, however- Polyjuice potion never worked properly when utilizing the hair of a corpse.

"You seem a little unsure, nephew" Wood said manically, "perhaps you need _further_ corroboration?"

Just as the last word slipped from her full, glossy lips, Wood's appearance began to change. Her long, brunette hair began to shorten, as if it were growing backwards, and it finally halted an inch below her chin, which had also become quite angular. She had grown a few inches as well, towering over Draco and Hermione- a truly menacing figure- and her shoulders had broadened significantly. Lastly, her face began to change, its features becoming more and more masculine with each passing second. Within the span of a few minutes, Scarlet Wood had disappeared and in her place stood Rodolphus Lestrange, clad in a ridiculously tiny, not to mention shredded, evening gown. He smiled viscously, baring his teeth in a feral comportment and then flicked his wand. His tattered clothing disappeared and was immediately replaced by more fitting attire.

"Much better," he stated smugly, "I've had a hell of a time dealing with those ridiculous evening gowns, no matter how well they fit the body of that prissy little ex-Quidditch player."

Draco frowned and Hermione murmured something unintelligible, though the venom in her tone was quite clear.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite make that out," Lestrange stated harshly and swished his wand in a flippant motion. Hermione's gag vanished and she scowled at him menacingly.

"I asked what you did with her!" she exclaimed angrily.

"Ah yes, now I remember," Lestrange answered bitterly, "the Golden Gryffindor- strong and centered- my wife referred to you as the girl who got away. She had quite a hunger for you after you escaped. You were _very_ lucky, although now that I think on it…perhaps you should have allowed my wife to kill you. I'll not be as kind as she was."

Draco growled and heaved his bound body at his uncle. The larger man easily deflected his body with a muscled arm, and pushed Draco onto the couch next to Hermione.

"Easy, nephew," he stated smugly, "We wouldn't want you to end up on the firing end of a killing curse, now would we?"

"But you plan to kill me anyway!!" Draco shouted angrily, "so what's the difference?"

"Kill you? Oh no, no, no," Lestrange replied, shaking his head, "obviously you've not told them the best part, have you Ginger?"

Ginger shook her head and smiled slyly. "I wanted you to have the honors," she drawled smoothly.

"And I thank you for that," Lestrange replied and sat down in Hermione's comfortable armchair. She glared at him ruthlessly and he chuckled.

"Where to begin?" he stated coolly and placed his hands in front of his chin in a steeple. His eyes darted between his two prisoners in a taunting manner and he pursed his lips, an unreadable expression on his brutish face.

After some deliberation, he finally spoke. "I suppose I'll begin with her," he stated tersely and jabbed a stubby finger in Hermione's direction, "you see, it wasn't you who brought us here, nephew. You were more of a, how shall I put this…_added incentive_. Potter hadn't a clue what he had gotten you into. In fact, it was only a week prior to your arrival that we had taken control of the club. No, my dear nephew, you were never our main focus…it was the mudblood that initially brought us to The Pink Thestral."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Patsy

Draco and Hermione were frozen in a state of shock. Both of them wore identical, astonished expressions and neither of them dared move. Lestrange looked on them with an air of amused self-satisfaction and, threading his fingers, he rested his chin on his enjoined hands and sighed with contentment. Draco felt a pang of irritation prick at him and he frowned instinctively at the demented wizard seated before them.

_What the hell is this yampy, cross dressing freak yammering about?_

Draco opened his mouth to ask this very question but Hermione beat him to the punch.

"What could you possibly want with me??" she asked bitterly, "other than attempting some cockamamie revenge scheme on behalf of your maddened wife?"

Lestrange scowled at her dejectedly. "I had forgotten how outspoken you are, _mudblood_," he replied, his tone icy and hard, "it's a damn good thing I didn't take that ridiculous, Quidditch queen's place before now or I likely would have smacked that smart little mouth of yours."

Hermione snorted loudly. "I'd like to have seen you try," she shot back coldly.

"Now, now mudblood, if you continue to speak to me with such little regard for my superiority, I fear I will have to re-gag you," Lestrange replied sardonically, the callous expression on his dark face reminding Draco greatly of his godfather.

"If you _prefer_ to be gagged, by all means, continue to address me in such an insubordinate manner- otherwise, be _silent_!"

_Yep, definitely Snape…except this jack off is no where near as intimidating as Severus. That man could freeze boiling water from twenty paces._

Hermione huffed indignantly and bit her bottom lip. She cast her eyes sideways and sulked as Lestrange continued.

"_You_ were the only reason we came to this club," Lestrange said, his dark eyes fixed resolutely on Hermione, "in fact, placing a price on Draco's head was nothing but a ruse…a convenient diversion fabricated to focus Potter's attention on my nephew, rather than his ill bred little friend. It was only a twist of fate that brought Draco to the club, a fortunate twist, as it allowed the final pieces of our plan to fall into place."

Draco furrowed his brows and met his uncle's gaze with a confounded expression. "But why come up with a ruse? You could have taken her at any time," he inquired softly.

"Taking her _was_ our initial intent, but Delish Felicis had been placed in the club before you even came along. Apparently, Potter had heard rumblings of our plot- a member of our inner sanctum had been captured and forced to drink Veritaserum- thereby tipping off the simpering St. Potter and his pack of pillocks," Lestrange replied, "lucky for us, the member had been privy to only a portion of the plan, but Potter, being the annoyingly good Gryffindor, immediately placed a tail on the mudblood."

"Wait, Delish was an Auror?" Hermione interjected with surprise.

"That she was. Of course, this put a hitch in _our_ plan," Lestrange continued, "so we devised the ruse as a means of distracting Potter and creating a decoy. Potter had no idea, of course, and with Felicis already assigned to the club, it was easy for him to place Draco there in an effort to protect the both of you. It was quite cushy, really, with Felicis busy keeping watch over the both of you, it allowed us to infiltrate the club- though we did have to get rid of the prissy little wench eventually."

"Belladonna," Hermione murmured abruptly.

"Very good, mudblood. I see the rumors regarding your intelligence were not far off the mark," Lestrange replied, the condescension in his voice as thick as molasses, "Belladonna Knotgrass was quite easy to control, it was just a matter of finding the perfect way to manipulate her. Ginger here was the one who volunteered that ponce Lockhart for the job. She had happened upon that ridiculous excuse for a wizard while stealing potion antidotes from St. Mungo's. Seeing it as an opportunity to recruit yet another easily controllable nitwit, she successfully broke the barmy git out of the spell damage ward, convincing him that he was not only an ex-Death Eater but also a headlining queen. The arrogant moron took the bait without question, and began training under Hellebore thereafter. Once he was deemed ready, we had him audition for Wood. Belladonna and Mandragora were the only other queens working for the former Quidditch pro at the time, so once 'Amortentia Moonstone' succeeded in claiming her position, she began to study the two queens in an effort to decipher which was more vulnerable."

Draco frowned instinctively. "Vulnerable?" he wondered allowed.

"Ah, yes…we knew that convincing two complete strangers to join up with a defeated faction could prove quite difficult- it would take time…and that was something we did not have. Every day the Aurors were gaining ground, and it was only a matter of time before they found us," Lestrange replied bitterly, "ultimately it was decided that Belladonna would make the perfect patsy. She was weaker and more prone to persuasion than that hardheaded bitch, Mandragora. Amortentia easily Imperiused the little bint, and gained an additional ally in the process."

Lestrange smirked at the couple with smug jubilation. His eyes were wild with malevolence, though his celebratory leer made him appear slightly off his box, as if he had just consumed one too many firewhiskeys while celebrating his recent victory. Draco raised his brows as he surveyed his uncle's maddened expression. His unhinged idiom and the triumph behind his eyes reminded Draco of a crazy Muggle scientist in one of the novels he had been reading back at the club. He had taken to reading Wood's rather large collection of books during his time off and this particular novel had caught his eye. It featured this freaky dosser named Dr. Frank-N-Furter who liked to dig up graves and assemble body parts like some morbid puzzle. Draco had just gotten to the part where Dr. Frank-N-Furter was trying to fry the assembled body parts with a bolt of lightening, he assumed, in some strange Muggle cannibalistic ritual. Looking at his uncle now, he realized that all that was missing was the mutilated human puzzle and that queer little hunchback, Quaz E. Frodo.

_Bloody barmcake, that one…_

Draco shook his head as his uncle continued. "Of course, once it was established by our dear departed Belladonna that Draco Malfoy was the true identity of Illustra Lacewing, we were inclined to believe that your placement in the club presented the perfect opportunity, not only gain vengeance against you, but to also put a new spin on our original plan. So we had Belladonna seduce that nitwit Wood…I believe you walked in on the two of them?"

Draco visibly shuddered and Lestrange cackled wildly. "Ah, I see that you did," he stated amusedly, "pity you had to witness such a ghastly scene, but it was _entirely_ necessary. I couldn't exactly invade the club with so many Aurors sniffing about, so Belladonna took it upon herself to nick a few of Wood's hairs during their little snog. We used the time it took to brew the Polyjuice potion to perfect our strategy and, obviously, it paid off nicely."

"But what did you do to Wood?" Hermione asked again, this time with significantly less venom.

"Don't worry your pretty little ill bred head, your queen may be incapacitated at the moment, but she will soon be restored to her _throne_," Lestrange replied with smug indignation, "there's no way in Merlin's holy hell I'm continuing with _that_ role once I've gotten what I want."

Draco furrowed his brows darkly and shot a quizzical look at his uncle. "And what, exactly, _do_ you want, uncle??" he hissed acrimoniously.

Lestrange flashed Draco a maniacal smile. "Why, I want my brother out of Azkaban, of course," he replied with flippant ease, cracking his knuckles nonchalantly as he surveyed their surprised reaction.

The color quickly drained from Draco's face and he inhaled sharply as memories of his Uncle Rebastian crowded his already overwrought mind. So his uncle wanted Rabastian Lestrange released from Azkaban. If he was successful in negotiating his brother's release, the Aurors would be up against two seasoned Dark Wizards and their band of miscreants and it would not be as easy to take them all down.

Lestrange noticed Draco's insipid complexion, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest arrogantly. "That's right, nephew, I want Rabastian Lestrange set free," he stated forcefully, "I knew the only way the Ministry would ever consider letting him walk was if one of the members of their _precious_ _Golden_ _Trio_ was endangered. So I formulated my plan to kidnap the mudblood and ransom her for my brother's freedom. He's been incarcerated in that shitehole for five years…who knows what horrors he's been forced to endure!!"

Draco now understood where the owl came in. Amortentia the Arse Licking Hag had sent an owl to Potter demanding the release of Rabastian Lestrange in return for Hermione's freedom. Draco thought back to Hellebore and Amortentia's conversation- Hellebore had specifically stated that Potter and the Aurors would show up at the club, meaning that the note likely instructed them to report there, instead of Hermione's flat. That was why Amortentia had been so worried about her wand…she didn't want the Aurors to discover it near Belladonna's body. Draco cursed himself, wishing he had left the wand currently poking him in his side under Wood's desk. The Aurors could have discovered it and determined that perhaps the wily wench was not as innocent as she made herself out to be. Regardless, it still did not explain why Amortentia had nicked _his_ wand- unless of course she was planning to hand it over to the Aurors as evidence.

_Slimy wench…I bet she's handing it to Potter as we speak!_

"This is all about your _brother_?" Hermione asked unabashedly, "you've got to be kidding me!"

Lestrange leapt forward, flicking his wand at Draco in the process. He pulled Hermione toward him roughly and she shrieked in fright. Hellebore cackled in triumph as she watched Draco attempt to launch himself at Lestrange but fail miserably in the process. Apparently, his uncle had cast an additional binding charm on him- for his body had not moved an inch under the weight of his effort. Hermione struggled in Lestrange's large, bulky hands but his massive musculature held her fast, and he gripped her shoulders tightly, eliciting a whimper from the frightened girl. Draco could feel the fury building inside of him, mirrored only by Hermione's palpable fear, and he growled fiercely at his infuriated uncle.

Ignoring Draco's obvious rage, the angry man dug his stubby fingers into Hermione's delicate arms and she winced slightly. Nevertheless, the girl lifted her eyes and stared back at Lestrange with such confidence that the older wizard hissed vehemently and sneered at her poise. "Plucky little Gryffindor, we'll see how brave you really are soon enough. Now, that's the second time you've overstepped your bounds, Miss," he whispered ominously, "I advise that you refrain from allowing any further comments regarding _my_ family to spill from those soiled lips. If it happens again, I will be forced to re-acquaint you with the very curse my wife was so lucky to introduce."

He released her and she fell back against the couch, her bound hands covering her face as she attempted to calm herself. Draco, on the other hand, was thoroughly inconsolable and he fought against the spell that bound him to his seat with reckless abandon.

"Stop fighting, you idiot!! You're only going to wear yourself out!!" the Anti-Merlin shouted angrily.

_Screw you, you little pansy!! I'm gonna rip him limb from limb!!_

"No you're not!! You're going to think of a way out of this, you fool! We weren't gifted with this exceptional mind for nothing- so use your blasted brain!!" the Anti-Merlin hissed.

_So now's the time you chime in, eh?? And what's with the bloody arrogance all of a sudden?_

"Well, you're not doing much to get us out of this mess, so I thought it was time that someone attempted to talk some sense into you. And, as for the arrogance, well…I'm sorry, but I can only hang around you and your ruddy ego for so long before it starts to have an effect on me!" the Anti-Merlin replied exasperatedly.

_Right…well, did you have something worth contributing, Ego Boy?_

"The wand, you nitwit!! Look for an opening in this moron's tirade and use it to your advantage!!" the Anti-Merlin persisted.

_Alright, alright…you actually have a point…maybe I'll start listening to you more often…_

"Damn right," the Anti-Merlin replied smugly.

Draco abruptly halted his struggle against his magical bonds and appraised his uncle charily. He needed to bide his time and find a way to redirect Lestrange's focus. If he could only get a few moments alone with Hermione, he might be able to successfully put his plan into action. He hissed through his teeth loudly and Lestrange glanced at him with a jaded expression.

"Finite Incantatum," Lestrange muttered and, waving his wand dismissively, he looked at his nephew and quirked a brow, "was there something you wanted, nephew?"

Draco sneered at the larger man contemptuously. "Why did that bint, Amortentia, nick my wand?"

"You mean…_this_ wand?" Lestrange replied merrily and took a wand from Hellebore's proffered hand.

The smooth Hawthorne baton his uncle held was immediately familiar- its handle had a rather intricate dragon engraved into its surface and a star, surrounded by a single word: _Thuban_ (an origin of Draco's namesake), had been impressed into the handle's base. Draco could recall losing this particular wand to Potter during their battle at the Manor, but, to his relief, the Gryffindor had eventually given it back to him.

"Why do _you_ have my wand?" Draco whispered gravely.

Lestrange opened his mouth to reply but was unexpectedly interrupted by the familiar sound of an owl tapping on a glass pane. Hellebore hastened over to the window- the tight, satin dress she donned hugging her swaying hips, her silvery stilettos snapping on the hard wooden floor like a clattering drum. She threw open the window and a Ministry owl swooped into the room carrying a rather bulky load. Hellebore grabbed the packet and immediately ripped it open.

"To Draco Malfoy," she said with a sly smile, "from Harry Potter."

Lestrange returned Hellebore's smile with one of his own.

"Excellent," he said, delight compounding his drawling tone. Hellebore handed the packet to him and Lestrange began rifling through several sheets of parchment. He held up a wizarding photo and scowled derisively before tossing it onto the coffee table. Draco glanced at it the photo curiously. There was a shabbily dressed, older man being escorted out of a jail cell- his dark hair was greasy and clotted, his cheeks hollowed, and his eyes held the familiar expression of gloom commonly associated with the Dementors that guarded the magical prison. Draco had become acquainted with this particular expression, seeing it reflected in his father's eyes whenever he had the chance to visit him. There was no denying that Lucius Malfoy had become a shell of his former self. The pride that had once thickened the air around him had drained from him in those first few months of imprisonment, and now, he was nothing but corporeal regret.

"The release documents have been processed and they want to make a trade," Lestrange stated casually as he scanned the parchment, "Potter says that if he releases the mudblood then they will overlook the murder of Belladonna Knotgrass."

Ginger Hellebore smirked and glanced over at Draco. "Ah, that Amortentia is such a fabulous actress," she quipped elegantly.

Draco frowned as the two Death Eaters grinned at each other with contentment. "If who releases Hermione? And why is that letter addressed to me?" he asked suddenly, the petulance in his voice entirely evident.

"Haven't you caught on _yet_?" Lestrange replied with a shake of his head, "_You're_ the one who's behind all of this!!"

"What?" Hermione interjected in astonishment.

"That's right," Lestrange stated with a sly grin, "We just planned to wipe Ginger's wand with the Deletrius charm- we never expected Amortentia to aid our little plan quite so diligently. Of course, the use of Draco's wand in Belladonna's murder only lends further credence to the theory that he was the one to concoct the entire plan."

Draco closed his gaping mouth and swallowed hard- his throat was course and dry, and he felt as though he had just swallowed a spoonful of sand. "Y- You're setting _me_ up as the patsy??" he exclaimed, disbelief coating every syllable of his sputtered inquiry. "And what happens after you make the trade and Hermione tells Potter that I didn't do any of it? Or are you planning to wipe her memory as well?"

Lestrange regarded him for a moment, his expression completely unreadable, but as the seconds passed his indifference segued to obvious bliss. His eyes darted between Draco and Hermione fervently and, as he opened his mouth to speak, a jubilant giggle escaped him.

_What a Nancy Boy, sounds like a pig-tailed little princess with _that_ sweet little laugh…_

"Because, dear nephew…the mudblood won't have the luxury of telling Potter anything at all," Lestrange answered maniacally.

"And just how do you plan to make the trade without Hermione?" Draco inquired warily.

"Ah, I figured you might wonder about that. It seems that our dear Miss Scarlet will have yet another role to play in our little scheme," Lestrange replied with a wink, "we plan to trade _her_ in place of this disgusting swot. She'll be under a Glamour charm, of course, and completely unconscious, but it will allow us to fool that pilchard Potter long enough to escape with my brother."

"And what of Hermione?" Draco questioned circumspectly.

Lestrange leaned forward and smiled evenly at his nephew. "Well," he replied casually as he flipped Draco's wand through his fingers lightly, "you didn't honestly expect that I'd just let her walk, did you? My wife was completely distraught at losing this precious piece of muggle filth and I certainly have every intention of finishing what she started."

"You plan to torture her then?" Draco whispered somberly.

"Yes I do," Lestrange replied lightly, "and then, my dear nephew, _you_ are going to kill her."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Where There's a Wand, There's a Way

As the sheer breadth of Lestrange's plan was revealed, Draco felt the blood drain from his head and plummet into his feet. He noted the tangible silence that had enveloped the room and, glancing quickly at Hermione, he furrowed his brows in worry. She sat perfectly still- her head angled forward, dark eyes boring into Lestrange- a vacant expression on her face. The lack of emotion in her usually brilliant brown eyes startled Draco and he wondered if she had finally reached some internal breaking point- the news of her possible death sending her into a state of catatonia. His heart rate leapt dramatically as he surveyed the fiery young woman in such a defeated posture and he clenched his fists in an effort to remain calm. Reminding himself that he would fight with every bit of obstinate strength he could muster in order to keep from harming her, he lifted his chin with determination and locked eyes with the barmy butthole he used to call family.

_Bring it on, you great knob…_

Draco's defiance only seemed to amuse his uncle, and the bulky wizard settled himself more fully into Hermione's brown leather armchair, a devious smirk lightening the dark features of his brutish face. "I assume you have every intention of resisting me, nephew," Lestrange stated with cold calculation, "however, I regret to inform you that there is really no way for you to stop me- you _will_ do my bidding. I've been perfecting my Imperious as of late and I must say, it's _exceptionally_ strong."

Draco scowled as he realized that resisting the Imperious had never been his forte. Lestrange smiled contentedly as he watched Draco's gritty expression falter. He ran a hand through his dark hair and pursed his lips. "Ginger, what were the instructions you left with Amortentia?"

Draco had literally forgotten that Hellebore was still in the room and he flinched as she stalked forward, her satin encased hips swaying back and forth flagrantly. "I told her to owl Potter directly from the club. The letter would instruct him to take Rebastan to King's Cross Station and place him on the six o'clock bound for Wiltshire."

"Aha, Wiltshire, _very_ nice touch," Lestrange interrupted and chuckled heartily.

Hellebore smirked with triumph. "I thought it befitting, considering our patsy," she snorted, "the letter also states that only one Auror may accompany him on the trip and that they will be watched closely. If any other Aurors are spotted, the mudblood will die. Of course, they have no idea that once the train arrives safely in Wiltshire, we will ambush the Auror but, ces't la vie."

"And the mudblood?" Lestrange inquired, causing Draco to bristle noticeably.

"Another letter will be sent to Potter upon the train's arrival informing him of the mudblood's location," Ginger replied smoothly.

"Excellent," Lestrange replied, "and where is this location?"

Hellebore smiled smugly. "Why, Draco's hidden boudoir, of course."

Lestrange frowned with uncertainty. "Do you think that wise? Belladonna's murder took place in Wood's office. Did you honestly believe that St. Potter and that blood traitor Weasel would not think to look there during their investigation?"

"Ah, but they won't find anything," Hellebore replied with a haughty sniff, "as you know, Wood is _safely_ tucked in the mudblood's bed and flooing in to deposit her body while the exchange is made should not be a problem. The floos have been warded accordingly and Amortentia has been instructed to send word once those sniveling little Gryffindors are bound for King's Cross."

Draco gritted his teeth and inwardly cursed Hellebore and her perfect little scheme.

_Waffling wench needs a good leathering- we'll have a square-go before the day is through!!_

He sunk back onto the couch and sulked irritably. He had to think of a way out of this mess! Hermione remained silent and completely immobile, which worried Draco even more. He had a feeling he was going to be entirely alone in his endeavor to overpower these nitwits, and he didn't like it one bit. He huffed petulantly and strained against the unyielding ropes binding his body. A pained hiss escaped him as the wand dug into his ribcage and he shot a look at his captors. Luckily, the two fools were so engrossed in their monotonous diatribe, they hadn't even noticed. Sighing in relief, he glanced covertly at Hermione. As his head swiveled in her direction, her eyes darted sideways and she blinked at him conspicuously. Apparently, the witch was not the catatonic pygmy puff he had thought and Draco's stomach fluttered nervously as he turned quickly back to survey the Death Eating dickwads. Neither paid the pair any mind as they began arguing over when to deposit Wood's body. In fact, they were so immersed in bickering over the logistics of their plan, that Draco decided the opportune moment he had been looking for had finally arrived.

He shifted his eyes sideways and noted how perfectly Hermione continued her little game. Her hair had fallen around her shoulders as she leaned forward and clasped her bound hands. Her gaze fixed on his uncle, she stared at him vacuously- all emotion absent from her countenance. Notwithstanding, she seemed to easily maintain the radiant quality Draco had admired in her on previous occasions. She was truly an anomaly, her dark features and white creamy skin a startling combination, and Draco allowed his eyes to wander down to her dress, his loins rejoicing at the sight of her torn bodice. Cursing himself for not noticing sooner, he scoured the pert and voluptuous pair of-

"Oi! Get a grip, you bloody cad!" the Anti-Merlin quipped with a snort, "this is no time to blow your load over the hot piece of Gryffindor arse to your right, so cut the crap!"

_Yeah, yeah…hey! What the hell do you mean, 'hot piece of Gryffindor arse?' I thought you were supposed to be the gentleman!_

"I've no idea what you're babbling about, now get back on task, you great ponce!" the Anti-Merlin replied and feigned innocence while whistling a jaunty tune.

_We'll discuss this later, you little perve…_

Draco lifted his eyes to Hermione's face and immediately noticed the light blush to her cheeks.

_Shite, she saw that…_

Draco smirked mischievously and shrugged as best he could under his vice-like restraints. Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, but Draco noticed a small smile light up her face before she turned her attention away from him and back to their captors. Tunring back to him, they locked eyes and Draco quickly made to inform Hermione of his hidden wand but, before he could, she rapidly mouthed three words- _wand in bookshelf._

Draco's gaze settled on the expansive bookshelf adjacent to the couch. Presumably, an extra wand was hidden amongst the books and Draco vaguely wondered which tome held the useful implement. He skimmed quickly over the spines, noticing the varied muggle and magical titles, his eyes lingering on the book he had pulled on his first trip to her flat: _As You Like It._ In a comical twist of fate, he had found this very book amongst Wood's collection and had devoured it in an evening. The plotline had slight situational parallels to his current position with Hermione and he had found it rather intriguing. It was this very book that had inspired him to indulge in additional muggle titles, including, The Humpback of Moby Dick and Mary Gel Knee's morbid tale, Frank-N-Furter.

Shaking his head in quite the self-deprecating manner, he quickly continued his quest for the elusive title when, suddenly, he spotted it: _Where There's a Wand, There's a Way. _

_Ah, clever witch…_

That had to be it. None of the other books could so perfectly masquerade as a vessel for a spare wand. He looked over at her and winked. She nodded and hastily resumed her catatonic posture. Draco, on the other hand, peeked quickly at Lestrange, who was waving his arms about and grunting at Hellebore in frustration. Obviously, their full proof plan was not as full proof as Lestrange had hoped. Looking around determinedly, Draco attempted to locate something that might create a diversion. If he could manage to get his hands on the wand shoved up his dress, then he might possibly be able to pull something off. He noticed that Hermione's Sneakoscope was still on the coffee table, though it appeared that she had finished repairing the item.

_Hmm, a very _loud _item…_

He smirked delightedly as his eyes dropped below the coffee table and immediately caught sight of the large, fuzzy puff of orange fur resting underneath.

_Aha, that evil hybrid may actually come in handy…_

Draco nudged Santana's Spawn with his foot and the cat raised its fuzzy mug and glared at Draco defiantly. Yawning, the irreverent feline got to its feet, stretched, circled, and laid back back down- its butt pointed directly at Draco. He narrowed his eyes and cursed the blasted beast.

_Alright, you little wanker, you _will_ do what I need you to do._

He nudged the cat again, this time a bit harder and the furry, orange menace glanced at Draco with a look that said, 'Try that again, mate, and you're dead meat.'

Draco, forever the stubborn Slythrin, would not be deterred by an irritating little puss with its tail stuck up its arse- he pulled his foot back as far as he could and kicked the cat square in the butt. The feline yowled angrily and shot up, hitting the underside of the coffee table and activating the Sneakoscope in the process. The device began whistling loudly and both Lestrange and Hellebore dove for the item, knocking it to the floor. It clattered loudly but continued its piercing whistle. Hellebore ran towards it, wobbling precariously on her stilettos and Draco watched with great amusement as she lost control of her balance and tripped backwards, ripping the seam of her dress as she crashed into Lestrange. He attempted to steady them both but his efforts were in vain and they both crashed to the floor in a rather unflattering heap of ripped satin and sparkly silver heels.

Hermione stood up and hopped quickly over to the bookcase. She grabbed hold of _Where There's a Wand, There's a Way_, and opened it. A box charmed to look like a book, she grasped her spare wand victoriously and removed her bounds. She then pointed the wand at Draco and muttered the counter-spell. The ropes binding his body disappeared and he stood up swiftly, pulling his hidden wand from the folds of his dress. Hermione's mouth fell open and Draco smiled, wincing slightly as his side throbbed from the offending baton. Hermione hastened over to the Sneakoscope, deactivated the item, and the pair turned to face the pile of wizards on the floor when, suddenly, a bright, red light shot across the room. Without thinking, Draco ducked and the spell slammed into Hermione. Her body crumpled in on itself and Draco growled furiously as he shot a spell at a haughty looking Hellebore. The wench was apparently unaware that Draco was packing a wand and his spell hit her head on.

Instead of stupefying the rabid wench, his spell had a completely different effect. Hellebore's body began to stretch, _literally_. She began stumbling all over the living room as her torso stretched like a piece of pulled taffy. She screamed as her arms and legs also began to elongate, her knees wobbling as she attempted to regain her balance. Her already tattered emerald, satin dress shredded under the additional duress and Draco snorted as she suddenly reminded him of that great green muggle odd-ball, Gumbo. Draco's merriment was short lived however as Hellebore began staggering towards him- her wacky, taffy body bending like some crazy contortionist at a muggle circus. He quickly waved his stolen wand at the waffling wench in an attempt to reverse the spell.

"_Finite Incantatum_!" he bellowed as she bent forward, her head hanging at an odd angle, her snakelike arms waving about madly, almost striking Draco and Lestrange in the process.

Instead of reversing the spell, a wooden rod flew out of the end of his wand and Draco's mouth fell open in total astonishment.

"_Finite Incantatum, Finite Incantatum_…_FINITE INCANTATUM_!!!" he shouted at the top of his lungs and, abruptly, dozens of wooden rods began shooting out of the end of his wand like bullets out of a muggle gun. Hellebore, the great taffy tit-head, shrieked as the rods pelted her elongated body from all angles. Lestrange barricaded himself behind the leather chair as the wooden rods continued to spurt from Draco's wand.

Shaking the baton furiously, Draco only managed to send wooden rods flying all over Hermione's flat. In a last ditch attempt to halt the misdirected spell, he pointed the wand at Hellebore and shouted the only thing that came to mind, "_Petrificus Totalus_!!"

This time, the spell seemed to work properly, as the rods immediately ceased and Hellebore became as rigid as stone. There were slight complications, however, as the great taffy monster was still stretched beyond belief and resembled a sculpture made entirely of blown glass- her head hanging upside down, her loop-de-loop-like legs, and her arms, resembling a pair of Ashwinders, hung limply in the air.

Without warning, the defeated queen's odd body began to teeter. Lestrange, who was peering out from behind the leather armchair, squealed like a four year old as Hellebore the Horrible keeled over like a lumbered tree, her body slipping on the numerous rods littering the floor. He dove over the chair, just as the queen smashed to the ground, mere centimeters from where he had been hiding. His massive body slammed into the coffee table, smashing it to bits, and he rolled into a defensive crouch, pointing his wand at Draco.

The younger wizard quickly waved his wand in an attempt to disarm Lestrange, but the older man easily deflected his advance, and shot a stunning spell in return. Draco tried to repel the hex, but was forced to dive sideways as a bouquet of flowers erupted from the end of the wooden piece of shite Amortentia called a wand. He slipped along the floor wildly, the wooden rods spinning against his feet like lubricated rollers.

Lestrange cackled gleefully. "Looks like that wand is giving you a bit of trouble, nephew," he quipped and shot another curse at the blonde.

Draco fell to the floor, his balance finally giving out, and he felt Lestrange's curse breeze over his head as he slid to the ground. Landing hard, he rolled over, bit his lip in concentration and waved the wand furiously.

"_CONFRINGO_!" he shouted but, once again, his spell backfired and, instead of blasting Lestrange clear across the room, it produced a fountain of wine, which descended on Hermione's flat like a tidal wave.

_Dammit! I didn't say Crapula, you piece of crapola!!_

Lestrange squealed again as the jet of currant gushed over him and he covered his face with his hands. Draco rose carefully, and attempted to take advantage of Lestrange's current impairment, but the evil baton continued to spew forth a never-ending jet of wine. Gritting his teeth, Draco growled in aggravation as he waited for the fountain to subside.

Lestrange peered out from behind his hands as the liquid slowed and he grinned evilly. "Ah, a fine vintage…I believe this calls for a toast," he mocked, voice thick with condescension, "here's to my victory!"

He licked his lips and quickly shot another spell at Draco, but the wizard was ready and successfully blocked the spell, smirking as he watched it ricochet back towards Lestrange. The larger wizard dodged the curse but his foot apparently found one of the elusive rods lurking just under the liquid surface and his feet flew up over his head. Using this as an opportunity to gain the upper hand, Draco waved his wand and shouted the first spell that came to mind, "_Amentia Caterva_!!"

The spell hit Lestrange squarely in the chest and the man instantly fell backwards, his head landing in the puddle of currant. Draco watched in awe as the wizard suddenly sat up, rising to his feet, his eyes slightly crossed, and wobbled a bit before taking a giant breath. He held it for just a moment before he abruptly burst into song and began marching like a regiment officer, sloshing wine about brutishly.

_I don't know but I've been told! Voldemort was big and bold!_

_I don't know but it's been said! Harry Potter killed him dead!_

_Sound off!_

_1, 2!_

_Sound off!_

_3, 4!_

_Break it on down!_

_1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2...a 3, 4!_

"If I continue to defend the front lines I will be rewarded and introduced to the leader of the Kneazles. I know he is here! I saw him earlier!" Lestrange bellowed madly and then looked up at Draco.

"Do you know the leader of the Kneazles?" he asked, his face deadly serious, "I'll pay you a thousand galleons to introduce me to him! He's orange, a bit furry, and my total hero!! Aha! I know the exact coordinates for the City of Atlantis! We must hijack a submarine and declare war against the merpeople! I will need sixteen torpedoes and twenty seven packs of licorice wands!! And if you act now, you can own this beautiful set of bright orange tea kettles! Quick, inform the Pentagon that we need Hit Wizard cover at all stores in Muggle London! They've conspired to bewitch the celery and will attack the Ministry at O400!! Mad cabbages, mad cabbages!! Look out below!!"

Draco stifled a laugh as he watched his already crazed uncle suffer the effects of the _Amentia Caterva_ charm. The spell was something he'd developed in the year following his graduation from Hogwarts. He hadn't had the luxury to attend a Wizarding University- the countless legal proceedings enforced by the Ministry had monopolized his time. In the aftermath of war that he and his family had taken part in, normality was scarcely an attainable object. Draco had been forced to step into his father's role as head of the family- managing their affairs and looking after his mother while his father served his sentence in Azkaban. It was all considerably time consuming but Draco had managed to fit in a bit of self-study, utilizing the wealth of information contained in the Malfoy library. He had discovered the possibility of developing the _Amentia Caterva_ charm by manipulating the elements of a common draught known as Essence of Insanity. In theory, he had successfully isolated the specific properties that produce the effect of the potion and converted them into the tangible magic usually associated with wandwork. The effects of the charm were identical to the draught however, the draught would eventually wear off whereas the charm needed a specific counter-curse to reverse its effects.

Lestrange quickly pulled his slacks off and placed them on his head, Draco's wand clattering to the floor in the process. The blonde sauntered forward and reclaimed his wand, smiling happily as he felt the magic rush through him. He placed Amortentia's wand on the mantel and quickly cast a cleaning spell, effectively ridding Hermione's soggy flat of the wine and wooden rods. He turned and began to creep over to Hermione when he was nearly sent base over apex by his wacky uncle.

The man was running around and waving his wand wildly. "Look, I'm Harry Potter! Wonder Boy to the rescue!!! BUMPPADABUMPPADABAAAAA!!! I defeated the greatest Dark Wizard that ever lived, where's my medal? Has anybody seen my medal? You stole it, didn't you?" he screamed angrily at a houseplant in the corner, "don't lie, I know it was you!! I'm gonna get it back if it's the last thing I do!"

He lifted his wand like a Muggle shotgun and pretended to shoot the plant, effectively transfiguring it into an enormous hotcake. Lestrange giggled wildly as he prodded the giant hotcake with his fist.

"Oh, you're so squishy!!" he stated coquettishly and batted his eyes at the hotcake, "I do hope you plan to stay for tea…I've got it all planned out! Crumpets and watercress sandwiches- a real soiree!! You will stay, won't you my love?"

Lestrange stroked the hotcake lovingly and then abruptly turned towards Hermione's brown leather armchair. "It's you! You're trying to steal him away from me, you great slag!!"

He pretended to 'shoot' the armchair, once again transfiguring it into something- this time a large and rather annoyed looking cow.

Draco rolled his eyes as he made his way over to Hermione. He rolled her over and, noticing her rather soggy appearance, quickly _Scourgified_ her face and body- the last thing he needed was for her to wake up completely sodden with red wine and kick his arse for almost destroying her flat.

"_Ennervate_," he said firmly and pointed his wand at the unconscious brunette. She immediately began to stir and Draco knelt down beside her.

"W-what happened?" she asked blearily.

Before Draco could answer, Hermione's fireplace erupted in a flash of green flames and Harry Potter rolled out of the firebox, followed quickly by an irate looking Weasel. Both narrowed their eyes and immediately pointed their wands at Draco.

"Let her go, Malf-"

_MOO!_

The cow had apparently decided to salute the two Aurors and Harry Potter turned towards the animal, his eyes wide in astonishment.

"Hermione, why in Merlin's name is there a bloody cow in your fl-"

"WAAAAAHHHH!! Get over here, man! This baby is coming with or without your help!!" Lestrange shouted worriedly and Potter nearly dropped his wand as he surveyed the Death Eater whispering and stroking a giant hotcake lovingly.

"Holy Shite, Rodulphus Lestrange!" Weasley shouted in shock.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Potter asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as Lestrange squatted and began to try and deliver a baby from a giant hotcake.

"This is no joke, mate! This baby is coming and I'm gonna need the following: a kilo of butter, the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, a wicket-keeper's glove, and a pair of knitting needles...oh, and some yarn."

Both the Weasel and Scarhead stared at Lestrange, identical shocked expressions etched on their faces.

"You, ginger!" Lestrange continued and jabbed a stubby finger at Weaselbee, "I need you to knit me a baby blanket as fast as you can!"

Potter snorted and glanced at Weasley, who looked considerably uncomfortable. "And you!" Lestrange said, pointing a finger at Harry, "I need you to help me deliver the baby! Hurry up man, get in here and slick up the birth canal with that butter…hell, use some syrup too, she's about to burst!!"

"Er…" Potter stated awkwardly.

_MOO!!!_

Potter and the Weasel King both glanced over at the cow and it was then that they noticed the petrified pig, Hellebore, lying on the floor- still stretched beyond belief.

"Godric's Golden Knob!" Potter exclaimed, "what have you lot been _doing_?"

"We've been fighting off the Martians, you great fool! EEEK! He's been probed! Look at the scar on his head!!"

Hermione sighed in frustration and flicked her wand at Lestrange. "_Somnus_!" she cried and the bulky wizard fell to the ground, fast asleep.

Potter shook his head in amazement. "All right, which one of you is going to tell me what the _hell_ is going on here?" he asked as Lestrange's loud snores echoed through the silent flat.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: A Country Christmas

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger slumped resignedly in one of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's interrogation rooms. Huddled together, each used the other's body in an effort to remain up right. The pair was _completely_ exhausted, suffering the aftereffects of quite the eventful day, and had just endured several rounds of questioning from both Potter and the Weasel. That is, until Hermione had had enough and adamantly refused to answer any more ridiculous inquiries.

Draco chuckled quietly, recalling the look on Potter's face as Hermione admonished him for being an inconsiderate prat. The Great Red Lump squirmed uncomfortably when she turned her wrath on him, condemning his obvious abuse of power by forcing them to undergo hours of pointless questions when the real culprit had already been detained.

In a moment of sheer idiocy, the two Gryffindors had tried to backtalk the livid witch, earning each of them one hell of a stinging hex. This had resulted in the confiscation of Draco and Hermione's wands but, in Draco's good opinion, it was well worth it to see those two morons hopping around and squealing like stuck pigs.

Hermione glanced up at Draco and raised a brow. "Is something funny?" she asked, the exhaustion in her voice entirely evident.

Draco smirked. "I was just thinking about how pithy you are…was that the first time you've ever hexed those two?"

"Are you nuts?" she replied, tone thick with surprise. "Those two have suffered the effects of my stinging hex on several occasions. If you hadn't noticed, tenacity is a trait commonly associated with Gryffindors."

"You don't say," Draco shot back sardonically.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Ugh, I swear if I weren't so tired I'd kick your arse right now."

Draco laughed. "Think you could take me, Granger?"

Hermione looked up at him with a sly smile. "I'd shred you, Malfoy."

Draco smirked and pulled her closer to him. Winding his hand through her thick curls, he tilted her head back a bit and brushed her lips playfully. She sighed in contentment, a fiery expression flitting briefly over her face. "Doesn't look like you're putting up much of a fight now," he whispered softly.

She blushed slightly and rolled her eyes. "I told you, I'm tired."

"Right…_tired_," he replied impishly. With extreme haste, he gripped her locks more forcefully and pulled her closer still, claiming her mouth in a soft but forceful kiss. Now that they were finally out of harm's way, he could really demonstrate just how much he appreciated her...and how much he wanted that appreciation to develop into something more. Hermione whimpered as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding softly over her lips, her tongue responding timidly as he hungrily savored her sweet flavor. Draco ripped the stupid, bloodstained fur collar from around his neck and pulled her into his lap. She slid her hands through his luxurious, long locks…

_Merlin's Balls! Those damned Aurors _conveniently_ forgot to turn me back!! _

He huffed inwardly, cursing the band of witless wonders for failing to return him to normal. He had his suspicions- knowing Scarhead and that rodent he called a partner- it was more than just a momentary oversight. In fact, Draco was convinced that the two Gryffindors and their pack of pillocks had purposely left him in this drag like state in order to poke fun at him.

_Bloody gits…_

Regardless, as long as he had Hermione in his lap, he couldn't give a niffler's arse. Indeed, he was starting to feel pretty damn good about himself as they continued to snog each other senseless. That is, until a couple of tactless titheads strolled through the door and rudely interrupted their _private_ moment.

"Ugh, I think I'm going to be ill!" Weasley crowed and covered his face with his hands.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Er, do you think you two could hold off until we formally release you?" he asked, his face a bit green.

"Will that be anytime _soon_?" Hermione muttered irritably.

Draco raised his brows. The girl was obviously irritated- she had failed to stammer in embarassment having been caught snogging their childhood nemesis, which was surprising, to say the least. Being the ever-expressive Gryffindor, she wore her heart on her sleeve- exposing the world to her inner most thoughts and feelings. There had never been a time that she had failed to flush at even the mention of intimacy. Nevertheless, at this particular moment, her aggravation obviously outweighed her embarrassment- the only sentiment adorning her sleeve was extreme displeasure.

Harry cringed slightly under Hermione's steely gaze. "Uh, we just finished the paperwork," he mumbled, his tone pacifying. "You'll just need to sign a couple of statements and then you'll be on your way."

The Great Red Lump huffed loudly, his eyes locked on Draco in anger, his arms crossed resentfully over his chest.

Draco smirked. Weasley's sleeve was apparently adorned with antipathy.

"Well?" Hermione huffed indignantly. "We've been cooped up in this blasted room for hours! Give us the bloody statements so we can-"

"So you can what, _Hermione_?" Ron interrupted bitterly, "Run off and shag the King of the Ferrets? You two might as well have had a go in here, the way you were scoffing each other's faces."

"_Ron_," Harry began.

"No! I'm not going to just stand by and let this happen. She's making the biggest mistake of her life with that…that…"

"That _what_, Weasel?" Draco interjected grudgingly.

Ron growled furiously and launched himself at Draco, swinging his arms as he neared the former Slytherin.

"Ron, _no_!" Harry bellowed and grabbed his friend round the waist. He barely managed to restrain the irate ginger from physically assaulting the equally incensed blonde.

Apparently the 'you don't get in my way and I won't get in yours' approach did not apply to Hermione Granger.

Draco and Ron glared at one another crossly, both men's thighs brushing the large wooden table serving as a boundary between them. Hermione gripped Draco's upper arm tightly and Harry now held both of Ron's arms behind his back- neither of them were willing to relinquish their hold for fear of a possible insurgence.

Ron looked to Hermione, his face red in anger. "I can't believe you Hermione! _We_ were supposed to end up together…it wasn't supposed to be like this…" he trailed off and looked down at the table.

Hermione gasped quietly and Weasley winced in response. Releasing Draco's arm, she slowly made her way over to the other side of the table. She stopped a foot shy of where Weasley stood, still staring down at the wooden tabletop. She looked at him for a moment, resignation clear on her face. He lifted his head and met her eyes, a sour expression marring the light blush to his cheeks.

"Ron," Hermione said softly, "we haven't been together for some time now. I thought the break in our relationship was mutual…what's going on here?"

Ron sighed heavily. "It _was_ mutual," he replied, "but seeing you with…_him_, is making me crazy. I don't understand it- how can you make it work with _him_…your _enemy_, and you can't make it work with me…your best friend?"

Draco was floored. He initially thought that the Weasel had been trying to steal Hermione back- and right under his nose, the bloody wanker. This assumption, however reasonable, was incorrect. It seemed that Hermione and Draco's relationship had, on some level, insulted the man. Ron had failed to make his relationship with Hermione flourish while his greatest enemy had managed success. Draco had to remind himself that Weaselbee had, indeed, loved the stubborn Gryffindor for years and that, perhaps, a short, romantic stint was not enough to flush out the bulk of his feelings.

Hermione looked up at Ron thoughtfully. "First of all, Draco is no longer our enemy," she began firmly, "you know that…and you also know that no matter what happens, nothing is going to take me away from you. We all went through something we'll never forget…something traumatic and awful, something we were forced to meet head on…but we faced it together and the bond that was forged will never be broken. So don't you, for one minute, assume that any alliance I have now would _ever_ tarnish my relationship with you."

The Weasel's sour expression began to falter as she continued. "Perhaps we couldn't make it work romantically because we had already reached the paramount in our relationship…it couldn't get any better. Attempting to change it was like trading a Firebolt for a Nimbus 2000 - why ruin something with intimacy that's already perfect without it?"

Hermione had chosen the perfect analogy. If there was one thing the Great Red Lump could comprehend, it was brooms.

Weaselbee threw his arms around Hermione and hugged her tightly against his chest. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head and smiled smugly.

Draco gritted his teeth cantankerously as he watched the annoying rodent milk it for all it was worth.

_Salazar's Sodding Sack! This blasted Gryffindork is going to be a fixture in my effing _life_…dammit…_

Draco wrinkled his nose at the thought. Dating Hermione was going to be one hell of a ride.

_Preferably with chaps…_

Draco's irritation immediately segued to impish cunning and a slow, calculative grin spread over his face. He would definitely have to haggle with Wood over that particular piece of clothing…Hermione would make the cutest, little cowgirl.

"Draco?" Ripped from his brilliant fantasy involving Hermione and a pair of cowboy boots…_with spurs_…he looked up to find a trio of Gryffindorks eyeing him skeptically.

He shot them a guilty smirk and raised his brows. "What is it, Granger?"

"Do I even _want_ to know?" she asked.

Draco feigned innocence as he waved his hand dismissively. "I've no idea what you're babbling about," he drawled, "but I suggest we get a move on."

Hermione shot him a suspicious look but nodded nevertheless. "All right."

Draco glanced at the two dunderheads and raised a brow. They were looking back and forth between he and Hermione, mouths hanging open in shock. It seemed that they had yet to experience the chemistry between the pair, and were more than surprised to witness it firsthand.

Draco smirked. "Well, are we going to get a move on or not?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Er, yes…let's finish up here so you can be on your way."

The four of them set to work, perusing the statements carefully. Draco pointed out a few areas that needed tweaking- they were a little too vague, in his opinion, and implied his possible involvement in Lestrange's plan- but other than that, he found the statements generally acceptable.

Once they had finished, they all stood and shuffled their feet awkwardly.

"Well, I think we'd better be going," Hermione stated solemnly. "Thanks for everything today, Harry…and Ron, owl me later this week and we'll get together."

Weasley smiled and nodded. "Sure thing, Mione."

Draco hastened to the door, followed closely by St. Potter. He turned around slowly and the two men looked at each other for a moment. Sighing heavily, Draco bit the bullet and stretched out his hand. "Thanks for getting us out of this mess…"

Harry Potter looked down at Draco's outstretched hand, eyeing it with a good amount of skepticism. The two men found themselves at a strange juncture in their relationship- unexpectedly reliving a significant moment from their past. Draco had offered Potter his hand in friendship once before, but the bespectacled boy had denied the alliance. No longer the bickering boys of old, the two men suddenly found themselves in unfamiliar territory. Potter hesitated momentarily, eyes equally reminiscent, but then, slowly, he looked up at Draco, directly into his eyes, and grasped the man's hand. "Glad to do it, Malfoy," he replied solidly. "Just be sure to take care of Hermione…or they'll be cleaning you up off the floor with a sponge."

Draco sniggered and nodded in Hermione's direction. "Yeah, yeah…"

Hermione joined the two men and, sliding her small hand into Draco's larger one, smiled approvingly.

"Don't get too used to this, Granger," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, just because we respect each other doesn't mean we're about to start attending Garden Parties and afternoon tea."

"What the hell are you on about Potter?" Draco drawled sarcastically, "_Garden parties_? _Afternoon tea?_What kind of Nancy Boy bullshite does the Weaselette have you doing, anyway?"

"This coming from the man in drag," Potter replied with a mocking grin.

"Speaking of, there is no way in Merlin's holy hell that I am going out there like _this_." Draco pointed to his attire and the Gryffindorks erupted in laughter.

"This isn't funny, dammit…we've got to go up front to retrieve my wand. Now change me back…or else," Draco pressed, placing his hands on his hips.

Harry lifted his hands defensively. "Ooh, or _else_…"

Hermione bit her lip. "Draco, you're looking rather…_catty_ standing there like that. You _sure_ you don't want to stay in that get up? You could show the boys how well you…_glide_."

Draco huffed as the lot of louses began to laugh even harder. _Now_ they were poking fun at him. He shot them all an obscene hand gesture, earning a chuckle from the wizards and a smack from Hermione.

"Ow! Dammit Granger, I mean it!"

"All right, all right," she said with a wink.

Draco frowned contemptuously but turned to face the two Aurors nonetheless. Scarhead waved his wand and Draco closed his eyes. A slight stinging sensation coursed over his body as Potter's cleaning spell scrubbed him up. Once the feeling had passed, he reached up and felt his face. Thankfully, it was devoid of make up and dried blood. Potter waved his wand again and, this time, Draco felt a soft fluttering over his skin. When it had stopped, he looked down and sighed in relief. He was no longer in that horrendous elfin get up!! No more perfectly piled up do, no more corsets from hell, no more strangling stockings!

_No more chaffing the knob!! Thank Merlin…_

"Thanks, mate," he stated appreciatively.

Potter nodded. "Off you go then," he said and gestured down the hall.

Draco and Hermione linked arms and began their descent to the main holding area. As they neared the partition, they heard a familiar voice bellowing through the corridors.

They stopped at a nearby holding cell and looked inside. Sitting against the far wall was Rudolphos Lestrange, still raving like a madman. "You fools! My son was born just a few hours ago and you're depriving me of my paternal rights!! I need to see my wife, she's about yay high, all buttered up, and rather squishy. And then Voldemort said that he was, like, totally into Bellatrix and wanted me to pass her a note after class! You'll never believe what it said…seriously, mate, it asked whether or not she wanted to, like, go steady! Can you believe it?!" Lestrange rattled on, flailing his arms about wildly.

Draco and Hermione looked at each other for a moment before bursting into hysterics.

Lestrange leapt up and began pirouetting around the holding cell, spinning lightly on a single toe. "I'll bet you never thought a troll like me could learn how to dance so elegantly…but Barnabas the Barmy was the most exquisite teacher!!" he exclaimed with a vast amount of pride, "I am now a Principal in the Muggle Ballet- that's right, no more chorals for me! I've proven my worth and will now star as one of the Sugar Plug faeries in The Fudgepacker!! You should come! It's only a few hundred galleons, but totally worth the price. And if you buy your tickets now, you will automatically be entered to win a brand new ironing board!!"

Draco sniggered as his uncle began licking the glass that separated him from his spectators. "You think I should reverse the spell?" he asked seriously. "They're going to have a rather difficult time getting anything out of him otherwise."

Hermione looked up at him, completely nonplussed. "Wait, so you have to apply a counter-curse in order to discontinue the effects of the charm?" she asked in amazement.

Draco nodded. "Yes, while the charm mimics the effects of Essence of Insanity, it does not wear off eventually like the draught, rather the duration of the charm is indefinite- well, at least until the spell caster has ended the hex properly," he replied.

Hermione stared at him, her mouth open in astonishment. "You're _brilliant_," she whispered.

Draco's head snapped up in surprise and he felt his cheeks begin to burn. Hermione had given him a compliment- not one based on his good looks or his hefty bank account- but a real compliment based on his magical achievement. A commendation from Hermione Granger on anything based in academics was as good as winning the Tri-Wizard Cup.

Hermione giggled and swatted his arm. "Are you…_blushing_?" she asked, her tone slightly mocking. "The great Draco Malfoy…_blushing! _This is monumental."

"Oh, shut it Granger," he replied petulantly and crossed his arms, "there are plenty of times I've made you blush…in fact, I'm quite sure I could accomplish that feat this very moment, if I were so inclined."

He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing wickedly and Hermione squealed as he lunged toward her playfully. Gripping her around the waist and pulling her close he whispered saucily into her ear. "Enough, witch…we're both dead tired and I think it's time we got you back to my flat."

Hermione immediately flushed and Draco smirked. "See," he whispered smoothly, "I _told_ you I could make you blush."

She swatted his chest and shook her head. "Just take me home, you arrogant toe rag," she replied, her tone a mixture of passion and defeat.

Draco threw his arm over her shoulders and they continued down to the main holding area to reclaim their wands.

~~~****~~~

Draco's flat was exquisite. It encompassed the entire forty-second floor of Cromwell Tower- the eldest of three residential towers in the Barbican Estate. The Estate was the main residential structure located in The City, the center of modern day London dubbed the Square Mile. The Malfoy's had chosen this particular flat because of its practicality- the Square Mile was not only a major business and financial hub, but also an area diverse in culture. Having several businesses that had expanded into the muggle marketplace, the family felt it prudent to have a flat in the area. The Estate itself was magnificent- a product of Brutalist architecture, the contemporary structure was a perfect symbol of the family's progression- successfully discarding its previous pureblood beliefs and embracing modern thought.

In contrast, the interior of the flat retained an authentic, Old World charm, captivating any who entered her. Draco's influence was obvious- he had outfitted the residence with classic antiques- preferring the straighter angles of the Jacobean period to the ornate, Gothic influence of Elizabethan pieces. He highlighted the room's simplicity with a collection of stunning artwork, dating from the Dutch Golden Age to the Flemish Baroque period. Hermione had been astounded on her first visit to the flat. She had commented on the sheer size of the place- emphasizing how her little one bedroom could fit inside the massive living area…hell it could fit inside the bloody floo!

Draco chuckled at the thought. Hermione was as bold and tenacious as they came. At present, she waited for him in the living room she had dubbed 'too big for a bachelor'. It was Christmas Day and Draco hastened down the connecting corridor, a present in each hand. He had a slight skip to his step as he scurried excitedly along, followed closely by Snort, his 'employed' house elf. Snort had been freed the morning after Hermione's initial visit to the flat- it had not been an option. Notwithstanding, Draco's ever loyal servant had chosen to remain in his stead.

Hermione had ruthlessly negotiated the terms of Snort's employment, leaving Draco with quite the shotty end of the deal. This had driven him to the brink of insanity- the woman was bloody relentless when it came to those blasted creatures. After several days at odds, he finally realized that giving in was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with the most stubborn, not to mention wily, woman he had ever had ever met. In fact, the longer he dated Granger, the more he believed that her sorting at Hogwarts had been a fluke. Regardless of her courageous determination, the wench was as cunning as they came.

Draco strode into the living room and spied his girlfriend standing in front of a tastefully decorated, eight foot Douglas fir. The tree was situated in front of a wall of windows and the afternoon sun twinkled off of the crystal ornaments that clung to its branches. He smiled knowingly, watching as she studiously examined each ornament with intense deliberation. The woman was always studying, whether it was her intense scrutiny of the artwork adorning his walls, he could often found her lost in the brilliance of brush strokes, or her constant need to consume as many books in one sitting as possible- the girl had a thirst for knowledge that was insurmountable.

Draco stole up behind her and made to cover her eyes with his hands when, suddenly, she sighed heavily and began shaking her head.

Furrowing his brows, Draco dropped his hands to his side. "What is it?" he inquired softly and Hermione spun around in surprise. She looked up into his stormy eyes and gave him a small smile.

"Uh, nothing, it's just…nothing," she replied hesitantly. Her eyes were glued to the hard wood floor, unwilling to look away.

Draco gripped her chin lightly and tilted her face up to meet him. "What is it?" he repeated, his tone beseeching.

Hermione blushed. "Erm, well…I was just looking at this lovely tree and all the beautiful ornaments…" she trailed off.

Draco raised a brow. "Yes?"

Biting her lip, she shifted her eyes nervously. "And, well…it makes me…kind of…sad," she whispered the last word guiltily.

Draco frowned. "Why would it make you sad?" he replied in confusion, "I thought you loved Christmas trees."

Hermione sighed. "I do," she said and nodded her head, "but…this one is so…cold."

"Cold," Draco said quietly.

Hermione flushed even more. "Don't get me wrong, Draco. It's a beautiful tree but, you have to understand…my family…we collect ornaments. Our tree is chock full of them, and they all have meaning. There are ornaments in memory every vacation we've ever taken, ornaments that my parents bought before I was born, ornaments celebrating the year of my birth…Merlin, there are even handmade ornaments I made when I was a little girl!" she stated excitedly, a faraway look in her pretty brown eyes. "But this tree…it's just so-"

"Cold," Draco interrupted solemnly.

Hermione bit her lip again and wrinkled her brow. "Draco, I'm sorry…you know I'm not passing judgment…I just…"

"Hermione," he stated firmly, "I'm not angry, if that's what you think. I'm just…envious, I guess. My family was never like that. Everything always had to be flawless, which meant that everything was usually some crystalline façade, teetering on the perception of the perfect Pureblood family. I wish to Merlin I could have experienced what you did."

He turned away from her and sat down on the couch, a heavy sigh escaping him. Hermione followed close behind, plopping next to him and shooting him a sly smile.

"You still could, you know," she said coyly.

"What?"

"Have that…have a family…like mine," she stated seriously.

Draco looked at her in surprise. "_Now_?"

Hermione whipped her head towards him rapidly. "Merlin's Pants! Are you crazy? Not now…" she cried, "…_eventually_."

Draco sighed in relief. He was nowhere near ready for _that_. He had just come to terms with the fact that he _had_ feelings- he wasn't about to start proclaiming them to the bloody world! Besides, there was no way in Salazar's Sweet Hell that he was discussing a possible future with the blasted witch when he hadn't even gotten to third base yet!

_Maybe I can work on that tonight…bribe her...perhaps use the ol' 'spirit' of Christmas excuse…_

"Dammit," the Anti-Merlin screeched, "you never learn, do you?"

_Nope…you should know that by now…_

"Randy tosser…well, if you're going to go for it anyway, do you mind if I watch?"

_What?! Get the hell out of here you Peeping Tom Thumb!!_

"That's 'Peeping Tom', numnuts."

_Shove off…_

"Erm, Draco_, _are you alright?"

"Eh? Oh yeah Granger, just fine…hey, why don't we open our gifts," he replied and handed her two boxes wrapped in lovely, emerald wrapping paper.

"Very festive," she stated playfully, handing him his gift in return.

Draco smiled animatedly and excitedly ripped into the gold paper. He pulled the box onto his lap and opened it swiftly. Holding up a pair of new Quidditch gloves and pads, he faced Hermione with a broad smile.

"Thanks, love," he said and leaned in to kiss her.

"That's not all," she replied, pushing him away good-naturedly.

He looked back into the box and spied a velvet satchel lying beneath the bulky Quidditch pads. He pulled the satchel from the box and undid the ties, slackening the mouth of the bag. He turned it upside down and a Golden Snitch slid out of the satchel and into the palm of his hand.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up the Snitch in curiosity. It was engraved with his name and an unfamiliar date.

"It's the first Snitch you ever caught at Hogwarts," she replied sweetly.

Draco looked at the Snitch and then back up at her, eyes wide in astonishment. "How did you find this?"

Hermione smiled triumphantly. "Honestly, I had to do a little research. All of the Snitches are numbered, so I asked McGongall if I could take a look at the old Quidditch records and she-"

Draco silenced her effectively with a searing kiss. She melted into his embrace and sighed happily.

Pulling away, Draco looked down at her dreamy expression and chuckled. "Now it's your turn," he whispered.

Hermione smoothed her mussed mane and sat up, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Okay," she replied, tearing the wrapping paper off of the tiny box in her hand. Looking down, she inhaled sharply before opening the lid.

"Oh my," she breathed.

Lying in the box was a simple gold chain adorned with a small, sapphire pendant. It was the perfect choice- not overly gaudy and outlandish- it was classic and refined, just like Hermione.

"Sapphire," she stated thoughtfully.

"Yeah…your birth stone, if I'm not mistaken," he replied knowledgeably.

Hermione glanced at him and smiled. "It is."

She lifted the necklace carefully from its box and handed it to Draco. Pulling her thick mane off of her shoulders, she turned her back to him and he slid the chain around her neck. Turning back around, she eyed him expectantly. "Well, how does it look?" she asked, one eyebrow cocked mischievously.

Draco leaned in close, halting a hair's-breadth away from her lips. "Perfect," he whispered saucily.

Without warning, Hermione pulled him on top of her and kissed him passionately. Draco's hands began roaming over her body and she whimpered as they ghosted over her the soft curvature of her breasts. She pressed herself against him and raked her nails over his back, eliciting a heated growl from the Slytherin.

Draco inhaled sharply as she wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh. "Hermione," he rasped as she smiled up at him wickedly, "what are you up to."

"Well, you're giving me two presents and I only brought you one…I think it's only fair for you to get another, don't you?" she asked, a brow raised in silent challenge.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "Hermione, you gave me _three_ presents…you don't have to…"

"Shhh…I've already decided."

Draco was completely astonished…but decidedly turned on. The little vixen had planned the entire thing!! Leaning closer, he reclaimed her lips and pinned her arms up over her head. Running his tongue into the curve of her neck, her breathing hitched dramatically as he made his way toward the ample valley between her breasts. He had definite ideas about acting out a few of his fantasies…

_Hell yeah, Hermione clad in a- wait a minute! She hasn't even opened the other one yet!_

Draco sat up quickly, earning an irritated groan from the girl beneath him. "You know," he drawled smoothly, "you haven't opened your other gift yet."

Hermione, panting heavily, opened her eyes and looked at him like he had grown another head…well, a _third_ head.

"What?" she asked in breathless indignation.

Draco sat back against the couch and crossed his arms. "I'd like you to open your other present," he replied resignedly.

Hermione sat up, her wild mane disheveled and, admittedly, damn sexy.

"Er, okay…" she replied with hesitation. She grabbed the second present and ripped off the emerald paper. Placing the box on her lap, she slowly lifted the lid.

Draco smirked delightedly as he surveyed her expression- she was utterly dumbfounded.

"Draco…what _is_ this?" she asked with a frown. Draco's smirk deepened as she pulled the item from its box, mouth falling open in astonishment.

Hermione looked at him mouth still agape, eyes wide as galleons. "Is this…are these…_chaps_?!!!"

THE END

* * *

_**A/N- Seriously, I am in total shock that we have finally come to the end. To everyone who has read and to all my faithful reviewers- thank you so much! You have made writing this worth every bout of writer's block, insomnia, and tearful hysteria. I truly enjoyed jotting this down and I hope it brought a smile to your face from time to time.**_

_**Thanks again!!**_

_**dracosgem**_


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